Girls in White Dresses
by Dracoisalooker76
Summary: "My father can crunch numbers all he wants. I know that if I survive my next two reapings I will not be working in the bakery." Peeta and Katniss are not the tributes for the 74th Hunger Games, but it doesn't make their love story easy. Non-reaped Everlark/canon-divergence. Cover by Ro Nordmann.
1. One

This is an idea that's been in my head for a while and finally the words have come. As always, characters and such from the Hunger Games series do not belong to me. Enjoy.

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**Girls in White Dresses**

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Part I: The Spark

_You used to be the girl that set the world on fire  
__And they drenched your soul in water but the flames reached higher  
__You'll always be the one that keeps me crazy inside  
__And if you got a wild heart don't you let it die  
_-Daughtry, _Wild Heart_

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_Town_

My father is crunching numbers again.

I can see him through the window in the swinging door between the kitchen and the shop. The bakery is closed today, as it always is after a reaping. Everything, even the mines, is closed on Reaping Day and remains closed after the names are pulled, mostly out of respect to the families mourning and partially because the rest of us want to celebrate our good fortune at their expense.

Dad sighs and puts his head in his hands. He takes a quick break and then goes back to his work, his pen scraping across the paper, trying to find something –_ anything_ – he could have missed.

Above my head I can hear Mother squeal. She is hard at work preparing Rye's favorite stew for dinner. Because we should be celebrating. Rye is safe from the reaping. His name will never be in the bowl again. He is free to get married, start working – he's free to live. The reaping no longer hangs over his head and that's two out of three that my parents have successfully raised to adulthood without sacrifice. Other families aren't nearly as lucky.

However, I know that it would have been a blessing in disguise for my family if Effie Trinket had called my name today.

Since my oldest brother survived the reaping and got married last year, my father has been slowly bowing out of the kitchen and transitioning the bulk of the business over to him, just as his father did. It started with Barley coming in during the night to aid my father in preparing the dough for the next morning. Now that Rye's out of the reaping, he'll be transitioned in too, helping Barley with the baking, ordering, and decorating, as my father begins to man the front end.

Business at the bakery doesn't fluctuate all that much. There's only one, so if people in the district want fresh bread they have to come to us. The only time when we see a real decline in business is during particularly bad winters, when what little we get from the Seam stops coming along with the revenue from those with more to spend. After working in the shop since he was younger than I am now, my father knows the business the bakery gets – he's just desperate.

My father can crunch numbers all he wants. I know that if I survive my next two reapings I will not be working in the bakery, even if no one has the courage to tell me to my face.

It's not uncommon for families heavy with sons to run into this problem. Businesses can only support so many. I just have the lucky misfortune of having brothers who have fallen in love with girls that won't be inheriting their family's businesses. Barley's girl is already thought of amongst certain crowds as the baker's wife and Rye's girlfriend will probably still work at the florist's, and they'll pool the little earnings they get from both the flower store and the bakery together. That leaves me. No wonder my parents wanted me to be a girl.

Dad seems to come to the same conclusion and tosses his pen across the storefront. It skids to a stop in the corner. I let out a breath and back away from the door's window, done watching my father suffer on my account. I'm not helping him at all, either. A good Town boy with no business to inherit would be making note of the girls that are inheriting their businesses and not already involved with someone else. There's not many. In fact, the only two that come to mind are Madge Undersee and Lily Parkinson.

I've talked to Madge before a few times. Her cousin is one of my best friends and I talk to her when she's sitting alone, excluded because she's quiet and the mayor's daughter. No one quite knows what to make of her. I know Lily better. She's the daughter of the apothecary owners, two people who happen to be very good friends of my parents. Her father, Proust, is one of my father's closest friends, along with Delly's father, and her mother grew up down the street from my mother. I've known Lily as long as I've known Delly, but never struck up the same connection. Lily was too much of a goodie-two-shoes when we were kids and while Delly and I bonded by stomping around in the mud (and then getting chastised by our parents), Lily watched from the doorway or clung to her mother's dress.

She's a very pretty girl, with straight hair so blonde it's only a few shades darker than newly fallen snow and blue eyes that are dark like puddles. She's nice too. There's really nothing wrong with her – many would say I'd be lucky to date or marry her.

But I'm not a good Town boy because I just can't put Katniss Everdeen behind me.

A few clobbering footsteps take to the stairs and the door to the upstairs apartment swings open. Barley is still dressed in his good clothes, just as I am. He gives me a small smile as he goes to the basket of bread on the far wall and pulls out a loaf of sourdough.

"Splurging tonight," he says, lifting it up slightly as he walks back toward the stairs. "Dinner's almost ready. You should probably come up before Mother has a fit."

I nod and he heads back up, leaving the door open as if I'm about to follow him immediately. I should because he's right. Mother will have a fit if I'm not ready and waiting upstairs for her special dinner. But I can't seem to move. Their voices float down from upstairs and for once my family seems happy.

Then I look back at the door to the front end and remember my father's desperation. That's my fault. If it weren't for me, he could be upstairs with my brothers, celebrating Rye's freedom. Instead he's down here worrying about me. Not for the first time do I recognize how much easier life would have been for them if I was on a train heading for the Capitol right now. Sure, they would have been sad, but ultimately they don't need me. I'm more of a burden to my family than anything else.

My feet move of their own volition, completely independent of my mind's better judgment. Instead of climbing the stairs to the apartment, my feet guide me to the back door and out into the street.

I always end up in the same place on the walks that I take to get away from the bakery. There's only so far you can walk in District 12 before coming to a wall of electricity and barbed wire. Once, when we were younger, a group of us came to the fence and stared out to see if we could spot one of the dangerous creatures we read about in our books. That's what the fence does; it keeps us safe from harm. _Could you imagine_, our teachers say, _what would happen if a wild cat or a bear came into the district?_

I came to the conclusion long ago that the animals must not be so rabid and dangerous. In all the time I've spent by this fence after my walks, I've never once seen a bear trying to figure out a way in, or a wild lynx just waiting for the electricity to turn off. I think the animals are just as scared of us as we are of them. Because isn't that what everything is afraid of? The unknown? It's what my father is afraid of. That's why he's so insistent on searching for a way for me to stay at the bakery.

I've never been into the forest though so I wouldn't know one way or the other about the animals inside. All I know are the superficial details of life beyond the fence – how the woods begin about a hundred yards off, how the breeze makes the leaves sway. With the setting sun in the distance, the woods appear so tantalizing that I reach forward, but yank my arm back at the last second, right before my fingers graze the electrified wire. I take a few deep breaths and turn around.

There aren't that many beautiful places in the district. So much of it has been touched by coal dust and unintentional neglect. But beautiful is such a subjective word. Sometimes I like walking through the streets and looking for beauty in the little things. Today it is easy to find. In the windows of the homes of Town, people are smiling. Celebrating. They're happy for once.

I find myself standing outside the McCourt house for a minute, looking into their window as they sit down for their celebration dinner. Their oldest was in the reaping for the first time today. The first one is always the worst. It doesn't matter that the odds grow less and less in your favor as you age, the first is, without a doubt, the worst reaping to endure. At least, the older you grow, the easier it is to delude yourself into believing you have some sort of a chance at winning.

I stuff my hands into my pockets and try to find more good things.

My travels guide me through the streets and ultimately into the square, where not four hours ago I felt a weight guiltily lift off my shoulders at the sound of Effie Trinket calling a name that wasn't mine. I can't even remember his name and it makes a pit form in my gut. Over the next few weeks I'll learn his name only to have to watch him die some painful and undignified death on the television.

The podium is still out on the stage in front of the Justice Building and the Panem flag remains hung under the wording on the wall. Tomorrow, once everyone goes back to work, it will fly in its regular place in the center of Town where everyone can see it. Workers will move the podium back inside the Justice Building and the square will remain mostly empty, aside from the mandatory public viewing sessions, until next year.

A shuffling noise hits my ears as I approach the stage to sit down and it makes me freeze. I look around me, wondering if a Peacekeeper would possibly stop me today, but I'm the only person in the square. I climb the steps of the stage and everything seems oddly still as I sit on the edge.

After a few seconds I hear one small rattle and I stand, peeking under the podium to see what's there. My eyebrows climb my forehead as my eyes make contact with a pair of stunning gray ones that I've dreamed about for years.

"Katniss?"

It's a tight fit for her under the podium, given the shelving underneath. The noise was probably her trying to get more comfortable because she clearly isn't right now. She has her legs pulled up to her chest, her arms wrapped tightly around her knees, her head ducked to avoid hitting the lower shelf.

She stares up at me, her eyes wide. The ever-present scowl that always seems to be hiding her smile has fallen from her face.

"What are you doing in the podium?" I ask.

In all the years I've known Katniss, had classes with her, seen her at lunch, I have never once gotten up the nerve to even utter one word in her presence. There are a lot of things I regret in life but the one I regret the most is just tossing the bread to her rather than going out to actually hand it to her that day in the rain. I messed up then just as I'm messing up now. I've never talked to her before and suddenly I think it's okay to ask her a question that sounds like it's full of judgment.

Katniss doesn't answer me. Her tongue darts out of her mouth and licks her lips, a worry-line forming between her eyebrows as they furrow in what looks like confusion. I extend my hand out to her and she startles.

"Why don't you get out of there? It doesn't look comfortable at all," I say, feeling like I'm talking to one of the toddlers that come into the bakery when I'm working the register.

She blinks a few times and eyes my hand before shaking her head. "I'm fine here, thanks," she mutters.

The action throws me off and I have to think for a moment why anyone would want to stuff themselves under the podium. It's a very clever hiding spot, to be honest, and one my younger self would have gladly used during hide-and-seek games. And then it hits me, what Katniss is doing in the podium.

"What are you hiding from?" I ask, my eyes darting around the square. It's still empty and I see no reason why anyone would bother us.

The scowl reappears. "I'm not hiding."

It makes me chuckle. "Katniss, you're sitting under the podium. If you're not hiding from anything, come sit on the stage." I stretch my arms out. "It's a lot less restricting."

It seems to work. She pokes her head out and looks through the square. When she's satisfied that there's nothing around us, she crawls out and sits directly in front of the podium, still relatively hidden from anyone walking into the square.

"I didn't think you knew my name," she mumbles, so quietly I'm not sure I heard her right.

_Oh, Katniss, I know everything about you._ But that's inappropriate and something I'm not sure I'd even tell her while on my deathbed.

"I do, Katniss Everdeen," I say. "But I'm sure you don't know mine."

She picks at her fingernails. "I know who you are, Peeta Mellark."

That catches me off-guard. I was so sure that she didn't even realize I existed, and yet here she is, sitting directly across from me, knowing my name. I mean, it makes sense that she would know my name in passing – we've had class together since we were five – so I try not to get my hopes up too much.

"Oh, do you?" I didn't mean for it to come out so flirty, just as I'm sure she didn't mean to blush.

She scowls then and hugs her knees tighter. "Of course I do," she hisses, harsher that I would have expected. She opens her mouth as if to say something and then appears to think better of it. Instead, she buries her face into her knees.

For years, I've dreamed about talking to Katniss for the first time and this conversation isn't like anything I ever imagined. I don't know what to say and she looks like she doesn't want to say anything. This is more realistic than any of my dreams, but the awkward pauses and tense sentences shared between us aren't the type of real I wanted.

When I don't say anything for a few minutes, Katniss looks up – probably to see if I've left yet. Instead of leaving, I sit down across from her.

"What are you doing here anyway?" she snarls. "Don't you have a brother to celebrate with?"

My body fights between being upset that she wants me to leave – because she clearly doesn't appreciate my company – and the joy at the fact that she has noticed me enough over the years to realize I have a brother two years older than us. Considering I didn't think she knew I existed until a few seconds ago, that alone is enough to make a warm pool seep out of my chest and out toward tips of my being. But, then that familiar pool of dread that I felt earlier masks that as I worry about why she's hiding in the podium instead of celebrating with her sister, who just survived her first reaping.

And Gale. Mustn't forget him. She has a lot of celebrating that she's missing.

"I could ask you the same thing," I say. She frowns. "Didn't your boyfriend just age out?"

Her body visibly tenses and her tongue juts out of her mouth to coat her lips again. "I don't have a boyfriend," she mumbles.

That surprises me and I'm afraid that it shows on my face. Katniss is attached at the hip with Gale Hawthorne, who is incredibly handsome and extraordinarily popular in school. Even Delly had a crush on him at one point, stating that his tall, dark, and handsome looks overshadowed his brooding personality.

I can't seem to formulate a coherent response. Instead I end up nodding and probably looking like a fool with a big shit-eating grin on my face. She doesn't have a boyfriend. It makes my heart sing. Despite having waited what I thought was too long, and seen her tag alongside Gale for nearly four years, they aren't together. And if they were going to it would have happened already, right? At least now I can dream again.

"Oh, well," I say, my mouth finally connecting with my brain. "What about your sister? This was her first reaping, right?"

Katniss's face drops even more and her shoulders deflate. "Prim," she moans, hitting her forehead on her knees.

This conversation just keeps taking turn after turn for the worst.

"Here," I say, trying to salvage something of this first meeting. My mother always insisted that first impressions were important and so far I'm not doing myself any favors. "I'll walk you home."

I'm expecting her to glare at me, scowl, and tell me to leave her alone after I tell her I'll walk her home, but Katniss is so lost in her own head that she just nods and stands up with me. I feel kind of bad watching her berate herself over not being with her sister, but it's so odd to me that it's also fascinating. I would never have that reaction – clearly, I walked out on my brother's celebration dinner and have yet to return – and my brothers wouldn't either. We're not extraordinarily close though, so it makes sense. Anyone who has lived in District 12 for any amount of time knows that Katniss and Prim are the closest set of siblings here. Any fool can see that.

And that's why Katniss Everdeen is walking beside me right now, her fists clenched in tight balls and her eyes on her feet while her expression might have any passerby believe that the world has just ended. I'm not even sure she realizes I'm with her.

"I'm sure everything is fine," I say, trying to make her feel better. "She's probably celebrating with her friends. First reaping done and over with."

When I was younger, Barley asked me if I enjoyed the sound of my own voice. That was the first time I realized that my mouth has a tendency to blabber on if I'm nervous or excited. Right now I'm caught between both emotions and I just can't get the right words out no matter how many times I open my mouth. Talking is normally one of my strengths. Today I want to kick myself after everything I say.

Katniss spins around to look at me as I finish. We're nearing the Town-Seam line and, to be honest, once we cross it I don't have a clue where we're going. I've only been over the line a handful of times, most of them on our annual class trips to the mines.

"You don't need to walk me home," Katniss insists. She stops just as the houses of Town dissolve into the shacks of the Seam. "I'm fine."

My heart starts beating erratically and my head is spinning in attempts of figuring out any reason to extend our walk. I know that the minute Katniss and I separate, that's it. I've lost my chance to make this first impression stick.

"You were hiding in Effie Trinket's podium," I remind her. "I wouldn't exactly call that fine."

She crosses her arms over her chest and scowls at me. "I wasn't hiding. And I can take care of myself."

"I know," I tell her, bringing my thumb and forefinger to the bridge of my nose.

This is not how any of my fantasies have ever gone. Usually, when I ask Katniss if she wants me to walk her home, she smiles excitedly and we chitchat the whole way to the Seam – sometimes by the end of it she has fallen so head-over-heels in love with me that she kisses me goodbye. Of course, that was my fantasy of Katniss and I'm realizing that dream-Katniss and real-Katniss are quite different people.

"I'm just trying to be nice," I end up saying, sounding more exasperated than I wish I did. "That's all. I'm not trying to insult you, I just...you looked upset, I thought you could use some company."

Katniss bites her lip and kicks the gravel with her foot. Much like me, she's still in her reaping clothes – a blue dress that I've never seen her in before. It fits her better than her usual clothes and she looks beautiful, but I don't dare say anything for fear of her ripping my head off.

"Fine," she mumbles, starting to walk again. I watch her go, the dress swishing against her knees. After a few strides, she turns her head over her shoulder. "Are you gonna walk me home or not?"

It only takes me a few steps to catch up to her and we walk side-by-side in the empty Seam streets. I stuff my hands in my pockets and as we walk I steal glances at her. I've always been so intimidated, but standing this close to her, closer than I've ever been, makes me wonder why. She's not that big. I'm not tall and the top of her head barely reaches my chin.

Like in Town, people in the Seam are spending the night together with family and friends, but many of them aren't surrounding a dinner table. Little kids, too small for the reaping, play in the streets. Older kids are sitting on porches or just inside, as you can see through the windows, sitting around tables playing cards. One house, not too far into the Seam, has its lights out and the drapes pulled, blocking out the world. I'm not sure which tribute's family it is, but my teeth grate together as we pass. Katniss doesn't look up and I wonder if she knew them or not.

A group of kids, no older than four or five, look up as we pass. All of them pause, their eyes draw to us. I turn and give them a smile and wave. One boy looks surprised, another's eyes widen in wonder, and one of the girls waves back, stuffing her thumb into her mouth. When I turn back to Katniss, she's staring at me, her eyes narrowed and her brow furrowed.

"What?" I ask.

She shakes her head and looks back at her feet.

We turn a corner and then another all in silence. I'm chewing the inside of my cheek, trying to come up with something to say that isn't completely stupid. But I can't think of anything, so I just go with whatever comes to mind.

"The weather's been nice," I mention. I can hear my brothers' laughter in my head. The weather. Nice job, Peeta!

"Yep," Katniss says, popping the p at the end.

We walk a few house lengths in more silence. She's not helping me in the slightest making conversation.

"So," I start, drawing it out and hoping she'll jump in. She doesn't. Instead she looks up at me expectantly. "Is your sister excited to start upper school in a few weeks?"

Katniss watches me as we walk, not answering my question. We take another turn before she stops and puts her hands on her hips. "What are you doing?" she demands.

"I'm trying to talk to you," I say. "And not very well, apparently."

She scowls, eyeing me as if she doesn't believe a word coming out of my mouth. I sigh and take my hands out of my pockets to run through my hair. Why does she need to make this so difficult? We continue walking and I manage to keep my mouth shut. Suddenly she stops outside of a dark house.

"Okay, I made it home safe," she says, moving to climb the stairs. The annoyance is thick in her voice but I don't really know what I did wrong. "You can go now."

"Is there anyone home?"

She turns to face me and shakes her head. "Probably still at the Hawthornes."

"Do you want me to take you there?"

Katniss's eyes widen and she stiffens. "No!" she all but shouts. She winces at herself and then wraps her arms around herself. "No. It's fine."

As she hurries up the steps to the door, I call after her, as if everything that has come out of my mouth hasn't already dug me in the world's most gigantic hole with her. She does stop in the doorway and turn back to me.

"I just, I hope whatever's bothering you...I hope you feel better about it tomorrow," I say.

I fully expect her to either deny everything and tell me that hiding is what she does for fun or slam the door in my face. But she surprises me again and doesn't do either. Katniss shrugs and looks me in the eye.

"Thanks, Peeta," she says, not sounding sarcastic or exasperated, but sincere. "Thank you...for everything."

And then she walks inside the dark house and shuts the door, completely missing the smile that stretches across my lips.

I walk back through the Seam, trying my hardest not to get lost, but my head isn't exactly on the directions. I have a skip in my step as I navigate through the foreign streets. I talked to Katniss Everdeen today. I really did and it doesn't matter that it didn't go at all like I ever imagined because today was better. Today was real.

I'm practically floating by the time I make it to the familiar streets of Town.

However, the floating feeling dissipates once the bakery comes into view and I can see that every light on the bottom floor is off, signaling that my family is upstairs in the apartment. My mother is going to slaughter me. I'm not entirely sure how much time has passed, but Barley said dinner was almost ready when I left.

I take a deep breath in, filling my lungs with thick air, before trudging through the grass toward the door. I climb the stairs as slowly as possible, attempting to save my ears for a few extra seconds, but the action is hopeless. My mother's ears have always been her most useful features that aid her both in gossip and discipline. She opens the door just as my fingers brush the cool metal of the knob.

And she is not happy.

Her eyes narrow and her nose scrunches, resembling the pigs we keep in the yard. Her blue eyes, more murky and dark than the clear ones the three of us inherited from Dad, emblazon with a hatred she reserves for talking about Seam trash that comes groveling at her feet or the stupidity that happens to be her sons.

"Where have you been?" she exclaims, her fingers digging into her hips in her anger. I try to sidestep her and enter the apartment, but she doesn't move. "Answer me!"

"I went for a walk," I tell her.

I learned to lie to my mother when I was six and I no longer have a problem doing so, but I like to tell the truth whenever possible. And I was taking a walk. It may have been in the Seam with Katniss Everdeen, but it was a walk nonetheless.

As she readies her argument, breathing heavily through her nostrils as her mouth forms the thinnest of lines on her face, I am able to brush by her into the apartment. My father sits at the head of the table, my brothers on either side of him. Barley's wife keeps her eyes focused on her lap as she reaches for his hand. She still hasn't quite gotten used to Mother's outbursts and I kind of feel bad about doing this in front of her.

I slide into the empty chair next to Rye. He eyes me with curiosity, but I don't meet his gaze. Instead, I pick up the cup in front of me and bring the tea to my lips. The bowl of stew is sitting in the middle of the table and everyone's bowls are empty but used.

"It would have been warm if you were here when dinner started," Mother hisses, sitting back down. She seems to have taken a few breaths to calm herself in front of our guest. I'm sure if Barley's wife wasn't here, she would have laid it to me and she still probably will later, when the two of them go home.

"That's fine. I don't mind it cold."

Mother snatches the bowl from in front of me and ladles some of the stew in it before slamming it back on the table, some of the stew sloshing over the edge. Out of the corner of my eye, I can see my father sigh and put his head in his hand. I suppose he thought that maybe today we'd be better behaved around each other.

She starts the conversation exactly where she probably left off before meeting me at the door.

"Well, I'm thrilled to hear that, Rye," she says, not giving any context to what they were talking about before my arrival. Probably to bait me. I take it.

"What?" I ask, turning not to my mother but Rye.

He shrugs and taps his spoon against the bowl. "Carnie and I are gonna go down to the Justice Building in a few weeks." He smirks and ruffles my hair. "You finally get your own room."

The Justice Building remains closed during the entirety of the Hunger Games except for explicit Games business, whatever that's supposed to mean. It's not as if we ever have tributes worth giving what little we have to sponsor them for a bite of bread. Usually they don't make it far enough for the bread anyway. That's in no offense to the tributes, I feel sick thinking about the two of them on the train right now, but we haven't had a victor since the last Quarter Quell and even Haymitch Abernathy didn't have a mentor, our first and only other victor having died years before his win. The odds just aren't in our favor and everyone knows it.

But, whatever "explicit Games business" they have to do in the Justice Building means that anything else requiring the Justice Building is pushed back until the Games are over. Occasionally, if both our tributes die in the bloodbath, they'll open up some offices if the district is in dire enough straights. With the Justice Building all but formally closed, anything requiring their stamp of approval has to wait. That means all marriages, birth certificates, death certificates and burial licenses, and formal orders from the shops to the Capitol are held off. It's why we order extra supplies in June at a very heavy cost – if we don't, we'll run out by the time the Games end in late July or early August.

There will be a massive line outside the day after the final cannon goes off.

"Congratulations," I say, bringing my spoon to my mouth. It's not as cold as Mother made it seem like it would be.

"Thanks."

It's quiet as I eat, which I would be thankful for except that I can feel my mother's gaze on me just waiting for the opportune moment to strike. The rest of my family is sharing the last of the fresh loaf of bread, a luxury we've had only as many times as I can count on one hand. When I finish, Dad starts to pick up, but Mother stops him.

"Why don't you four go watch the recaps," she says, her voice so overly saccharine that it can't be genuine. "Peeta will help me clear up. Won't you, dear?"

I swallow the last of my tea and smile. "I'd be happy to, Mother," I reply in the same tone.

Dad and Barley exchange glances, but Barley is quick to get his wife out of the room. Rye winces and looks like he wants to say something, but Dad quickly grabs his arm and the two follow Barley. We bring the dishes to the sink and she washes while I dry. It's actually nice. A quiet moment between us is something rare.

We used to do this when I was younger. She'd sit me up on the counter and pass me cups that couldn't break so I could dry them while she washed the evening dishes. She didn't always hate the three of us. She liked us all, maybe even loved us, until we started to form our own opinions on things and stopped being her little dolls.

She hands me the first bowl. "How was your walk? Considering you were late to dinner and I know Barley told you it was almost ready."

"It was fine."

"Where did you go?" She passes it to me.

I dry it and put it in the cupboard. "Just walked the streets, hung out at the stage."

We wash and dry the next bowl in silence.

"Madge looked pretty today," she says, handing me another bowl. "Did you stop and say hello?"

"I did."

"Good," she passes me the fourth bowl. "I'm glad that you've taken to being her friend. It's sad that she doesn't have any suitable acquaintances. Pretty girl like her."

It caused quite the stir in my mother's friend group when word hit that Madge Undersee and Katniss Everdeen were sitting together at the lunch table at school. They blamed her mother, of course, for not giving Madge any guidance and not possibly themselves for not having their own daughters invite Madge to sit with them or come to their slumber parties.

"And I _hope_ you said hello to Lily," she adds while passing me another bowl. There's one left before we move onto the utensils and I'm glad there's only one knife, the one we used for the bread.

"I did, Mother."

She turns to me and gives me an exasperated look to match the tone of my latest response.

"For goodness sake, Peeta, don't make it sound like it put you in the stocks to do it," she says, grabbing the last bowl and barely washing it before thrusting it into my hands. "Lily is a very sweet girl, very patient, very pretty, and a little birdy told me that she has a crush on you."

So that's what my mother wanted me here for. Not to scold me for being late, but to set me up on a date.

I put the bowl into the cupboard and wait until she has passed me the cleaned knife before replying. "Well, I'm flattered." It comes out more sarcastic than I wanted it to and I bite my tongue. She turns to me again with her nostrils flaring and I blurt out, "Really!"

"Peeta, I'm looking out for your best interests," she says. "That's more than your father can say."

"Leave Dad out of it."

She snorts and continues to wash the spoons. "You're both living in the clouds," she sneers, dunking the spoons in the pool of water again just to steal more of my time. "It's high time you stop fantasizing about Seam trash and face reality."

"Katniss isn't trash!"

My mother hates Katniss Everdeen and sometimes I wonder if Katniss wasn't an Everdeen and just a random girl from the Seam if she would hold as strong of a hate. I'm sure she wouldn't be happy about me having feelings for someone of _lesser class_ than us, but I'm not sure there is anyone in this district that my mother hates more than Katniss and Primrose Everdeen, except maybe their mother. And, of course, that stems from my mother's feelings of being the second choice of my father, although she's never said it in so many words.

She tosses the spoons into the water and turns to face me, putting her wet hands on her hips and soaking through the fabric. If this conversation doesn't go the way she wants, I'll get blamed for that later.

"Do you want to work in the mines?" I blink once but don't answer because she knows my response. "Honestly, Peeta, do you want to work in the mines so you can continue to lust after some girl who has yet to acknowledge your existence?"

_But she has._

She grinds her teeth together and waits for my response but it never comes.

"Lily is a great match for you," she says, her voice leaving no room for debate. "You two have known each other forever and she's a good girl. She is your ticket to your life and I am basically handing her to you on a silver platter!"

My mother lets out a breath and turns back to the sink, grabbing the spoons and thrusting them in my direction. "Your father won't ever say anything to you, so I will," she hisses. "I'm not having any son of mine groveling at someone's feet to get a job so he doesn't have to work in the mines like a filthy Seam rat. I won't have it. There's no room for you at the bakery so you need to find something else to do."

Of course my mother would be the first to say something – it's her reputation on the line if I don't get my act together.

"Maybe I'll end up reaped," I mumble.

There are two options for someone who is reaped for the Hunger Games – you live and benefit from the luxuries of the Capitol or, much more commonly, you die. If you do by some sort of miracle win the Games, the prizes are unimaginable. Life living in the Victor's Village with little to no responsibilities, more money than I'd see in a hundred lifetimes here, and your name barred from reentry into the reaping bowl. Despite this, no one wishes to be reaped onto their worst enemy and sure as hell not onto themselves, at least in our district.

My mother growls. "Well, then you won't have to worry about anything, but as long as you're breathing you're a merchant. Remember that."

She spins around and marches loudly into the other room, leaving me to finish in the kitchen and think about what she said.

* * *

_Notes_

Lily Parkinson gets her name, much like many in District 12, from nature. Lilies often represent innocence, purity, and sweetness, but also represent death (as they are often the flower displayed at funerals). Lily can also be short for several names, one of which being Lilith, who in Jewish folklore is Adam's first wife, made from the same earth and not from his rib like Eve. I stole Lily's family from my first HG fic, _What's a Soulmate_. Her surname, Parkinson, comes from Parkinson's Disease, an allusion to her family's ownership of the apothecary.

Carnie, Rye's girlfriend, is the daughter of the florist. Her name derives from carnation, a flower with a long history and undiminished popularity that is immediately recognizable by its appearance, characteristics Mrs. Mellark would want in a daughter-in-law. Carnation is also a brand of milk produced by Nestle that can be used for baking.

This will be a split narrative between Peeta and Katniss. As a warning, Part I is more about their separate situations and their coming together than it is about direct interactions. This is the most we'll see of them actually communicating until Part II, but I think you'll still enjoy the progression they make in finding the other. Or, at least I hope so.

Thank you for taking the time to read. I hope you enjoyed it.

Up next: Katniss


	2. Two

Thank you all so much for all the support. Enjoy!

* * *

_Seam_

Prim screams when Kindle Brow gets killed. Our tributes never last long, probably because our only living victor, and thus our only mentor, is Haymitch Abernathy. I've only ever seen him a handful of times, but he's always been drunk and cranky. We watched two days ago as Sorrel Forrester died of dehydration. He passed out a few yards from the river and moaned until he died, even when he lost consciousness. We probably don't have many sponsors for District 12, but there had to be enough money for a sip of water. Haymitch was probably passed out right along with him. This is the first year in a long time that both our tributes haven't died in the bloodbath, so you'd think he'd pay attention. In fact, Kindle came in ninth.

But ninth still means you're dead.

Kindle's death was particularly gruesome. Her strategy was to hide as long as she possibly could and she even taught herself how to climb a tree. She ate berries and found the river and watched from the top branches of a large tree as the Career pack danced right by her, chuckling to themselves about the expression on the face of the girl they had just killed. Caesar Flickerman and Claudius Templesmith likened her behavior to that of the girl from Five, but anyone could see that Kindle's behavior was fueled by fear and the need for self-preservation. Foxface, or so I decided to call the District 5 girl, had a strategy. I could see it in her eyes.

Kindle was chased out of her tree by fireballs that burned her leg and she sunk into the river for comfort. A parachute of medicine was just falling for her when the Career pack came upon her, the big brutal boy from Two surprisingly quick as he chased her down. The others chanted around them as he killed her, spending upwards of an hour teasing her and making her grovel for mercy before beating her and slitting her throat so blood bubbled in her mouth. The boy from One took her backpack and the medicine after the cannon boomed and then they took off so the big metal hand could grab her lifeless body.

Prim is shaking as Caesar Flickerman and Claudius Templesmith enter our screen, the Games in a corner so we don't miss any of the action. I mute it and take her into my arms, rocking her back and forth. I didn't really know either Kindle or Sorrel, and neither did Prim to my knowledge, but watching the Games is hard on anyone, even if you don't know the tributes personally.

"Shh," I say, continuing to rock her on our couch, the television muted so we don't have to hear Caesar Flickerman and Claudius Templesmith talk about what a shame it is that Kindle didn't outlast one more person, specifically the tiny girl from Eleven who reminds me so much of Prim.

"It's such a shame," says Caesar Flickerman, the words appearing on the screen since I've turned the volume off. "I was so excited! We haven't been to District 12 for an interview in years!"

"Maybe next year." Claudius Templesmith laughs, his face distorted with some sort of awful pleasure. "They do seem to produce their victors during Quarter Quells."

There will be two houses in the Seam with their curtains drawn tonight and every night for the remainder of the Games, but the rest of the district should return to normal functioning soon. No one is ever silly enough to hope for a victor. We're down to the top eight, so the remainder of the Games will be fairly predictable – a feast that the Gamemakers will hope turns into a bloodbath and then they'll send in muttations if it's not going quickly enough. The Capitol will want to end it soon and then our power will be cut and I can get back to hunting.

Until then, we'll be rationing. The Games can't go on much longer or we'll be out of food.

"Did he have to hit her that last time?" Prim asks, looking up at me with watery eyes. I don't respond and just kiss her forehead. Again, she bursts into tears.

Our mother sits at the kitchen table. The little girl from Eleven has been humming tunes to the Mockingjays for the past few days. Up until then our mother had been doing very well, but once the birds came on screen I knew we lost her. She started mumbling incoherently for a moment and then sat down at the table, her head in her hands. Now she's staring at the wall, completely lost. I try my very hardest not to hate her.

But, it's hard when I have Prim sobbing in my lap to think anything positive of my mother, so I don't waste much time digging through my head for the thoughts I won't find. Instead I send Prim to bed. It's late, despite the sunlight of the arena, and she doesn't need to watch the rest of the viewing.

Throughout the night, she wakes up three times with nightmares and, to be honest, I don't get much sleep either. The little girl from Eleven is affecting me too, although not to the extent of my mother, who doesn't move from the table even to go to bed. Her humming reminds me of my father's beautiful voice and how he often hummed to them too out beyond the fence. But more than anything, little Rue reminds me of Prim, and that is hard enough to swallow. They physically look nothing alike but there is something about her that is so like Prim. I just can't place it.

My sister cries in her sleep and I wipe her cheeks so the tears will be gone when she wakes up, but more just keep flowing.

The next morning is Sunday and there is a bulletin on our door telling us that there will be a mandatory viewing session tonight. Apparently after I went to bed there was an announcement for a feast at daybreak in the arena, which is late afternoon here. So I resolve to make the day good for Prim, terrified of what this feast will bring. I take her to the meadow. We pick dandelions to make a salad and Prim relaxes enough to make a crown of wildflowers. She insists on putting it on my head and, because she's finally smiling, I relent.

She takes my hand on the walk back and squeezes tightly, a matching wildflower crown to mine lopsided on her head. We walk in silence back to our house and when I see that our mother hasn't moved, I groan loud enough for Prim to startle. Checking the time quickly, I see that Prim still has time to get to the Hawthornes before they head to the square and I can't be sure she'll get there in time if she waits for me and our mother.

"Why don't you go walk with Rory and Hazelle?" I ask, trying to stay calm for her benefit.

"Are you gonna come?"

It's an innocent enough question on her half, asking because she's worried that our mother and I won't make it to the square in time and be punished for it. She doesn't know that when she asks it my mind goes elsewhere, to warm wet lips and my name being called as I run as far as I can away from them.

I shake it out of my head. I can't afford to think about Gale right now.

"I'll meet you in the square once I get her ready," I say, pushing her toward the door. "Hurry before they leave."

She turns and reluctantly walks out the door, heading down the road and I watch her until she takes a corner and is out of sight. Then I turn to my mother, a fire boiling in me when I see her still sitting at the table, not having moved since last night.

She has medicines now to fix this, but random events can trigger her to lose herself. I don't understand why she doesn't take the medicines for the entirety of the Games. Something always triggers her. Last year, it was the boy from One who was adept at a bow and arrow. This year, it was the birds.

"Mother?" I say, setting down the dandelion stems and walking toward her. "Mother, we have to go to the viewing."

I didn't expect her to respond, so I'm not too disappointed when she doesn't.

"Mother, listen to me." I'm not a patient person, so my voice grows tense with each passing second. "It's mandatory. We have to go."

She blinks.

It takes me half an hour to get her into a state of enough coherency to move and now we're barely going to arrive to the square on time. I shuffle her along like Prim herding Lady to graze in the meadow. The streets of the Seam are dead, everyone already in the square for the mandatory viewing and I hurry my mother a little faster. We arrive just in time, but my mother still hasn't fully come back and Darius lets us through without making it a spectacle.

We stand in the back because it is too late to try and find Prim. She is fine with Hazelle and I can picture her clutching Rory's hand for comfort. I just wish it was mine holding hers, my body shielding her from the recap of Kindle's death and the bloodbath that's likely to ensue in mere moments.

As Kindle Brow is teased and beaten by the boy from Two for the second time, I feel eyes on me. I turn to my left to see a group of Seam girls crying. I turn to my right. A pair of bright blue eyes stares back at me and I quickly look back toward the screen.

I can't afford to think about Peeta Mellark either.

Of all the people that could have found me that night it had to be the baker's son who coaxed me out and walked me home before curfew hit. As if I don't owe him enough already. And maybe that's what he was trying to get at, the fact that I haven't thanked him for the bread yet. At least I said thank you before he left, but I know that will never be enough. How do you properly repay someone when you owe him your life?

When I turn away from the recap, he's still looking at me. He must not have come in much before us because he and his older brother stand toward the back, both with aprons on and covered in bits of dough. I let my eyes linger up to his face, thinking perhaps I'll find some sort of answer to his persistent gaze, but I don't. He merely smiles and offers something of a small wave.

I don't wave back to Peeta Mellark.

My first real conversation with Madge Undersee was asking what his name was over lunch when we were twelve. At the time, I didn't even know the name of the boy who saved my life and I hadn't had it in me to thank him. I lifted the dandelion the following day and then proceeded to watch him for the remaining weeks of school. I thought about him during the break, wondering just how you thank someone for saving you, and by the time school started again at the end of the Games, I needed to know what the youngest Mellark was called.

So, on the first day of school, instead of sitting outside on the rock I had been eating lunch on since my father died because I was trying to avoid the rest of the students, I sat next to Madge Undersee. She was just as much of an outcast as I had become and welcomed her lunch buddy without many words. So, it took a few weeks, but I finally plucked up the nerve to ask.

"Oh, Peeta?" she'd said, when I pointed him out while trying to be as nonchalant as possible. I'm not sure it worked. "He's my cousin's best friend. Probably the nicest kid I know. His parents own the bakery."

It took me a while to accept that Peeta was just that nice of a person that he would burn bread purposefully to throw to me, knowing his mother would give him a beating. But, I have noticed him staring at me since that day. He probably wants me to thank him – even nice people like recognition, right? – but I can't.

So, I don't.

And he keeps staring at me.

I don't know what to do. I can't tell Prim. That part of our lives is not something I want to remind my little sister about, especially now that we're doing well most of the time. I don't even entertain the idea of talking to Gale. Not anymore at least.

But, if there's anything I've learned from watching him, Peeta Mellark is the guy that offers his seat if there are none left, the guy that goes out of his way to talk to Madge if she's standing alone despite her lack of social status, and the guy that would burn bread to throw to a Seam girl without telling a single soul about it so they could all have a good laugh. And now he's the guy that walks some poor Seam girl home so she doesn't get caught out after curfew by one of the imported Peacekeepers.

It infuriates me.

No one is that good – besides maybe Prim. I've been trying to find some ulterior motive for him throwing the bread, for walking me home, but nothing comes to me. I thought that, perhaps, if he had thrown the bread for another reason besides being nice it would be easier to pay off the debt. If he was conniving, then surely I didn't need to worry about payback. In fact, I wish he had told the entire school about it because then I wouldn't feel like I owe him anything.

I turn back to the screen and let out a frustrating breath as Claudius Templesmith alerts those in the arena of a feast and the coverage speeds up to present time. The sun is just rising in the arena and there are backpacks arranged by district number. Most of the eight are ready to risk it, including the little girl who hums with the birds, who looks hungry and exhausted and desperate.

I wish Prim was near me. I don't want her to see this alone.

We are forced to stay and watch an hour of chaos. Foxface was hiding in the Cornucopia and grabs her backpack first, confusing everyone including her fellow tributes, all of us watching, and Caesar and Claudius, who continue talking about her even as the little girl from Eleven makes her run for it and gets caught by the girl from Two.

The girl from Two has a mouth on her though and it gets her into trouble when the boy from Eleven grabs her and smashes her head against the Cornucopia. The main screen splits into two so we can see that her district partner is coming and too late to save her. And I almost think Rue will make it out alive until the boy from One, the same kid who took Kindle's supplies and medicine, throws a spear into her stomach.

Why am I not near Prim right now? I look ahead of me, searching for Gale over the crowds but I can't even see him amongst the other tall dark-haired heads.

Three cannons ring – one for the girl from Two, one for Rue, and one for the girl from Four, who meets her end when the brutal boy from Two has a near panic attack at the sight of his district partner's body, the first dead of the original Career pack. He breaks her neck swiftly at least and the two from One stealthily wander into the woods away from him to strategize.

As soon as we're dismissed I head to the exit to keep an eye for Prim, ready to be waiting for when they finally make it out. When she sees me she pushes through a family of merchants, who today are lenient with her rude behavior, and launches herself into my arms. Hazelle takes my mother's hand as I hug Prim to me, not realizing how much I needed to feel her in my arms after watching that.

"How are you?" I ask, pulling away to look at her.

She has always been an old soul, but there's something different in her eyes. She bites her lip and lets out a breath. "If Kindle or Sorrel couldn't win," she tells me quietly. "I wanted it to be Rue, the girl from Eleven."

Of course she did, but that was never going to happen. The youngest victor in history was Finnick Odair, from District 4, and he was fourteen, strong, and powerful with a trident. Rue might have had her slingshot, but when up against a boy five times her size?

I hug Prim tighter to me.

Once Prim dislodges herself from my arms, which don't want to lose her so quickly, I feel a hand on my shoulder and know who it belongs to without looking up. But I don't want to deal with Gale right now, so I don't. I stand up and cross my arms and walk away, behind Prim and Rory who are talking in low somber tones.

Gale, however, has other ideas. He takes my wrist and pulls me back once we cross over into the Seam and lets the others get a little farther ahead before he speaks.

"How long are you gonna run from me, Catnip?" he asks.

It's been a few weeks, throughout the training and first weeks of the Games, since I've spoken to Gale and I've been doing just fine not thinking about him and what he's done. He moves his hand down my wrist to my fingers and I yank it away, finally daring to look up into his face. The expression is one I haven't seen before, laced with frustration and sadness.

"Can we talk, please?"

What is there to talk about? To be honest, I don't really want to bring it up ever again. I would rather forget everything that happened between us and go back to before the reaping. Everything was simpler then and uncomplicated, which is what I like. Good hunting partners are hard to find and Gale is dead set on ruining everything.

It started right after the reaping.

As soon as the doors shut behind Kindle, Sorrel, and Effie Trinket, I found Prim in the crowd and held her as she sobbed tears of joy. She had been so scared and so sure her name would be called. Once she calmed down, I took her hand and led her through the crowds in search of the Hawthornes and then our mother. I wanted to congratulate Gale because, even though he still had Rory, Vick, and Posy to worry about, at least he never had to worry about himself again.

When we found the Hawthornes, a smile came on my face. Gale had Posy hoisted up in his arms. I had never seen Hazelle look so happy. I almost didn't want to interrupt, but before I could pull Prim away Gale spotted me and motioned for us to join them. He set Posy on the ground so he could approach, opening his arms to engulf me. I tensed but didn't pull away, deciding to give Gale this moment because even if we had never really hugged before, surviving the reaping is a good enough reason to hug anyone.

"Come celebrate with me tonight," Gale said as he let go of me. "Please?"

While Gale was my hunting partner and someone I considered to be my best friend, we had never hung out outside the woods. Gale had his friends, like Thom and Bristel, and I had Prim. I had never been invited to these get togethers before, nor had I ever really cared to – I had Prim to take care of and no time to be stupid.

But Gale was free and he'd be going down into the mines before long and our hunts together would be far less frequent so I told him yes. Prim and I found our mother, ate a dinner made out of the fish Gale and I had caught that day, and then left our mother to rest while we walked to the Hawthornes. Prim was going to play with Rory while I went to whatever this was with Gale.

I had figured that there would be some sort of party going on in the meadow when we arrived, maybe a few fiddles and some dancing and just overall cheer, but no one was there when we arrived. The meadow was quiet with not a single soul anywhere near it.

"Where is everyone?"

Gale turned to me and looked confused before realization dawned on his face and he shook his head. "Oh, did you think I was bringing you to a party?" I nodded. "Oh, no. It's just me and you."

I felt my guard go up, as if I was some sort of prey. Why would Gale want to spend his first night of freedom with me and not his family?

He rubbed the back of his neck and looked nervous although I didn't know why.

"So, uh," Gale said. "You looked really pretty today."

"Well, yeah, had to look my best just in case I had a ticket to the Capitol," I said.

His teeth clenched. "Don't talk like that."

We sat quietly for a few moments after that and to break the silence I started talking about the snare lines, suggesting that I take it over once he headed into the mines in the coming weeks. That way he wouldn't have to worry about it. I also mentioned that I could take Rory with me if he wanted, teach him the ropes since Prim would be absolutely useless beyond the fence. I noticed that Gale's fists were clenching and he looked frustrated, but I figured it was because he wanted Rory to stay innocent as long as possible, much like I wanted for Prim.

But, just as I was finishing my itinerary of Rory's first day with me, he leaned over, took my face in his hands, and kissed me.

It caught me completely off-guard. You would think after all the time I had spent with Gale the past four years, I would have been able to see it coming, wouldn't have been so surprised by his lips. But I had never kissed anyone before and therefore didn't know what it felt like to have someone moving his mouth against my own, how my lips would react and try to copy his movements in a sloppy unpracticed way.

I think I could have continued it, the pure physicality of kissing him, if he didn't pull away, look into my eyes, and open his mouth.

"I think I'm falling in love with you," he said.

And that's when I ran, my subconscious leading me to the stage of the Justice Building, to Town, because I knew it was the one place Gale would never follow. And, of course, that's when Peeta Mellark found me, pathetically trying to hide from Gale and wishing the previous seconds, minutes, hours away.

Everything was going fine until the reaping, although I guess I can see the progression a bit better in hindsight. No wonder Gale was mentioning such absurd things like leaving the district and having kids that day before the reaping, considering what he had in mind for after.

"Katniss, will you at least say something?"

The use of my real name stuns me out of my memories and I look up from my shoes into his face, which is staring at me as if he's waiting for me to reply.

"What did you say?"

He growls in the back of his throat, his jaw tensing as he stares at me. "I wasn't lying the other day," he says, running a hand through his hair. "I–"

"Don't," I say, cutting him off. "Don't say it."

Gale's mouth drops in disbelief and his eyes rage with the heat of a flame. "What else do you want me to say?"

"I don't want you to say anything."

He puts his hands on my shoulders and I immediately turn my head, afraid he's going to try and kiss me like he did the day of the reaping. The action seems to fuel his growing displeasure because I can feel his fingers dig into my shoulders.

"Can you at least mull the situation over a little," he says. "It's not like this is easy putting myself on the line to get trampled on by you."

My voice comes out small and quivery. "I didn't ask you to do this."

"And I'm not asking you to run to the Justice Building and sign the marriage papers right now," he says, the frustration dropping from his face and giving way to a hopefulness that I'm not ready to crush. He moves his left hand from my shoulder to my cheek. "I just want to know if you would be okay trying this, seeing where we could go."

I shake my head and the hopefulness burns into a rage. "You're not even considering it!" he shouts. "What are you gonna do when Prim ages out? When she moves away? You're gonna live with your mother?"

"I don't know."

He does make a valid point. Living with my mother for the rest of my life is less than desirable. But you only get assigned a house in the Seam if you're a miner, or the widow of a miner if you can show that you have something to provide the district, which is how Hazelle and my mother were allowed to keep the homes we live in. I've told Gale I have no desire to work in the mines that killed my father. I have a hard enough time going into them during the annual school trips that I know I'd never survive going down there every day. Being Gale's wife would allow me to live with him and not my mother and still do my illegal hunting.

"It's not even that much different than what we do already," Gale continues, his voice growing louder with each word. "Hell, half the Seam has bets going on when you get knocked up. Everyone already expects this of us."

"And since when have you done anything because of what people say?" I sneer back.

His face is so close to mine I can feel the heat from his reddening cheeks, but I don't fear that he'll kiss me like I did before.

"I'm going to work in the mines to protect my family. That is an expectation of anyone in the Seam and something that you will be expected to do too unless you find something else." He pulls back and smirks in a righteous way. "But considering you can't sew worth a damn and everyone in the Seam knows that you sure as hell aren't going to follow your mother's footsteps that doesn't leave much options for housewifery, Catnip."

Something shifts in his voice. "I could take care of you," he says, his voice dripping with a plea I've never heard before come from his lips. "I'm doing you a favor asking you to do this. You wouldn't have to work in the mines. It's not that different than what we do now. We could still hunt and we'd have enough for our family."

He keeps insisting it isn't, but it is different from what we do. As a girlfriend we would kiss and it would have meaning. Ultimately Gale would want to get married and I may not know much about what goes on in a married bed, but I do know that it doesn't take long for the girls who get married to start coming to my mother with round bellies and then a kid on their hip and another round belly not too many months later.

Gale wants that. I see how he is with Posy and his brothers. He all but said it just now, with one slip of the tongue.

"Family?"

Family. Marriage. Children.

"You don't see it," he says, putting his hand on my chin and pulling my face to look at him. "How you are with Prim and Posy and the boys."

"It doesn't matter," I tell him. "I'm not having children."

"Not now," he says.

"Not ever!" I hiss. "Not here."

His eyes flicker to the left where I know the fence is holding us in, electrified for a few more days until it goes dead at the end of the Games. For a moment I think about the possibility and give in to Gale's imagination. Of anyone here, Gale and I would be the ones who could do it, living off the land and using my shack by the lake as our home. But even living beyond the fence isn't safe for raising children. Not only could they be killed in the wild, but the Capitol hovercrafts could spot us, cut out their tongues or worse. We could all end up like the couple Gale and I saw out beyond the fence that time - the two we couldn't save.

And besides I couldn't take Prim into the woods. She's not of the sort.

I shake my head.

"So, you're going to be alone for the rest of your life because you don't want kids," he says, his voice sounding as if he's trying to wrap his head around the idea. I can see the gears working in his head, trying to plan another argument, a new way to see reason, so I put on the steeliest look I can muster. I'm not an animal to be outthought.

He pulls back and shakes his head, his jaw clenched and his eyes looking anywhere but me. "Fine. I'm going to need time."

Then he's gone.

I kick the ground with the toe of my shoe. I know I'm not capable of love, at least not the love Gale insists he has for me. The only person I'm certain I love is Prim and that is a very different sort of love. And, even if I could love Gale the way he loves me, I don't believe I could ever love someone so much that I'd be willing to risk having a child. That's not fair to Gale to deny him that. He has no shortage of girls who would love to be his wife.

Somehow, I make it home after dark, my thoughts scattered and a pain in my chest. Gale had looked so defeated and I know that it's my fault that he's feeling so miserable. But, I tell myself that it's for the best that he forgets about me and can begin to find a girl who will love him back.

Prim jumps up from the couch when I open the front door.

"Where were you? You and Gale disappeared and – oh, Katniss, what happened?" I must look just as bad as I feel because she wraps her arms around me, resting her head on my shoulder. "Are you okay?"

"I will be," I say, unsure of my own words. "I just..I hurt Gale's feelings."

"Oh, Katniss, why would you do that?"

She's so innocent and I want to keep her that way forever.

"Because I had to," I tell her, resting my head on hers as we sit on the floor against the wall. "But it'll be okay."

I think the lie is for both of us.

* * *

_Notes:_

Kindle Brow: Kindle gives the imagery of the flame. Fireballs hit her right before her death. Brow is a mining term. It is the low place in the roof of a mine that gives insufficient headroom. Haymitch sends her medicine, paralleling him sending Katniss medicine, but without circumstances of Katniss and Peeta's duo his aid doesn't help his tribute.

Sorrel Forrester: Sorrel is an herb, which is most often used in soups, sauces, and salads. The leaves have a sharp taste due to oxalic acid, a poison. Sorrel soup is an Eastern European dish made from water, sorrel leaves, and salt. Sorrel ironically dies of dehydration.

I mirrored the style in which Katniss remembers the kiss here to the way she remembers it in _Catching Fire_ during her meeting with President Snow.

Thank you so much for all the support. All of the follows, favorites, and reviews mean so much. As for updating, I will be updating once a week, on Tuesdays, for the time being while I try to write a few chapters ahead. I am back at school now so I don't want to get too ahead of myself by posting too often and then having you all wait forever for an update.

If you want to follow me on Tumblr I'm over there at dracoisalooker76 as well.

Back to Peeta in Chapter 3.


	3. Three

_Town_

The Games end when the girl from One pulls the last of the arrows from the quiver on her back on her district partner. She aims for his heart and manages to hit his stomach and it takes him a few writhing hours to bleed to death. He is too weakened from the mutts and their assault of the boy from District 2 to do much else but lie on the ground and wait to die, moaning in agony and pain. To the Capitol, it's so delicious they recap an edited version of it five times before our televisions finally turn off.

Rye and Carnie stand in line for six hours to sign their marriage papers and get assigned a house. It's small, one level, with two bedrooms and not much else. Mother absolutely hates how close it is to the Town-Seam line, but it's random when you're assigned a house and it's not as if she'll ever live there anyway. She and Dad, when they finally hand the business to Barley, will switch our apartment above the bakery with the small house Barley has, which is fortunately enough for my mother one of the closest to the center of Town. Of course, that was all luck of the draw, but Mother always winks at people when they ask, as if she has some high standing with the Capitol officials who assign the living quarters.

But really what does it matter where your house is as long as you're sharing it with the person you love?

After the toasting, the three of us head back to the bakery and my room suddenly seems too empty. I sleep on the top bunk even though I don't need to just because it feels wrong to sleep on the bottom. That was always Rye's and no matter how many times I bumped my head on the ceiling in the mornings, telling Rye I was stealing his bed as soon as he moved out while he laughed his head off, I couldn't sleep in his bed. The room is too quiet without hearing Rye's snores beneath me, the thrashing of his sheets as he tossed and turned. I had gotten used to not having Barley in the room – it was actually a relief because his mattress took up most of our floor space and we had to literally walk over him to get out the door – but I have never had the room entirely to myself. I'm not sure I like it.

I don't feel well rested when I wake up the next day. The entire apartment is empty, with my parents already downstairs preparing for the day. I grab a cup of water and a stale scone Dad left on the counter, sitting at the table in silence until it's a reasonable time to head to school and not be too early. Rye, Barley, and Dad are all in the kitchen talking quietly when I walk down the stairs and open the door to the bakery. The chatter stops when I enter.

It must have been about me.

"Morning," I say.

They nod their heads, only Rye taking a few extra seconds to look me over, his mouth open as if he wants to say something. But he doesn't end up saying it and instead smiles wider.

"Have fun at school, Munchkin," he teases, sticking his tongue out. The smirk doesn't quite reach his eyes.

They were talking about me. Now I'm sure of it.

"Oh, Peeta, wait!" Dad shouts just as I'm about to walk out the back door. He rushes forward with a loaf of bread wrapped up for transport. "Take this over to the apothecary, since you're early."

I take the bread in my hands. It's still warm. "What are we trading for?"

"Nothing," Dad mumbles. "It's something we've owed them for a while. They'll understand." He glances at the clock. "Now, get going, or you will be late."

The loaf he gives me is a hearty nut and raisin, one of our more expensive breads but one that strikes another cord in my heart. It's the bread I threw to Katniss four years ago when she was under our tree in the rain. The price of the bread that I burned was only part of the reason my mother whacked me in the face.

I really should have gone out into the rain and handed it to her, rather than thrown it to her like I would the pigs. How disrespectful I must have seemed to her.

The apothecary is already full of patrons doing their daily rounds of the shops and businesses. Mrs. Parkinson is at the front counter and the door to the back is shut, meaning her husband must be with a patient. She makes eye contact with me and smiles, giving me a hand signal that she'll be with me as soon as she's finished dealing with Mrs. Heggarty. While I wait, I look around at the signs on the wall, displaying the prices of the different treatments. Since Mr. Parkinson has been a friend of my father's since they were too young to have their names in the reaping, we've never actually paid for any of their services. Luckily, we're one of the few families that Mr. Parkinson will barter with – we'd never be able to afford anything here. It makes me wonder how anyone does.

Turning away from the prices board, I make casual conversation with Mrs. Montgomery, who is waiting in the chairs off to the side of the room for Mr. Parkinson. She's one of the older residents of Town, her once blonde hair pure white, which in District 12 is quite a feat.

The bell on top of the door dings with Mrs. Heggarty's exit.

"Peeta," Mrs. Parkinson says, smiling as she comes away from the counter to hug me. "What brings you here?"

I lift the loaf in my hands. "Dad said you'd understand."

"Tell him thank you for us." She smiles and takes the loaf from me, setting it down on the counter. "Are you heading to school?"

"Yes, ma'am."

She brings her hands together and looks over her shoulder. "You don't mind walking with Lily, do you? Maybe she'll hurry up and not be late if she knows you're waiting for her."

I nod and she walks to the stairwell that leads to the upstairs apartment, throwing the door open and shouting up the stairs to her daughter. There are a few crashes from above and then a set of thundering footsteps as Lily runs down the stairs, flinging her school bag over her shoulder.

"Hi, Peeta!" she says. "What are you doing here?"

"Bread delivery," I say, gesturing to the loaf on the counter. "I'm heading to school now. Wanna walk with me?"

She smiles so widely I'm afraid her face is going to split in half, then she nods her head. She walks to her mother, kissing her cheek. "I'll see you after school."

Lily leads me out the door and we fall into step beside each other. She keeps glancing up at me, quickly adverting her eyes as if I'll catch her if she watches me for too long. I wonder if this is how she has always acted around me and I'm only noticing it because of what my mother said a few weeks ago, about her having a crush on me.

Suddenly, my father insisting I take bread to the Parkinsons this morning makes sense.

"How was your break, Lily?"

My voice falls flat with the revelation, but I quickly mask the discomfort with a smile, not wanting to hurt her feelings. She smiles back.

"It was fine," she says. "I mean, anything's better than learning about coal though. It's not going to help me very much."

Our entire schooling surrounds learning our district's trade, which is coal. I wholeheartedly agree with her that it's not exactly thrilling, especially to someone with no future in the mines. Most Town kids merely sit through classes because they'll be fined for truancy if they skip. In the past few years, I've tried to pay a little more attention to what our teachers are saying. Instead of catching on that I'm learning more on the off chance I meet, seduce, and marry Katniss Everdeen, people in Town tell my mother what a golden child I am for being so interested and, more than once, they've mentioned that I would make a wonderful mayor, usually also noting that Madge is single at the same time.

Looking at it that way, I'm glad that my mother has decided I should try to fall in love with Lily Parkinson. The last thing this district needs is my mother having any relation to the government.

"Do you like the work at the apothecary?" I ask, trying to make more conversation.

She nods her head. "I do. My father's been letting me help out a little, teaching me the ropes."

"Really?" She nods again. "What's your favorite part?"

She blushes and looks away while she thinks. "I think working with the expecting women," she says. "I haven't really done much with them, but I saw a birth the other day and that was...amazing."

She lights up when she talks about it. It's stunning to see. Lily really is beautiful and her puddle dark eyes brighten with each word that passes her lips.

"It was nice to see someone so happy. Not many are when they come to us." Then she turns to me, rubbing her arm with her hand. "What about you? What do you like about the bakery?"

I shrug, biting back the thought of telling her that it doesn't matter what I like about baking because I'm running out of time there. Instead I think long and hard at the memories of my childhood. I think about how happy I was when my father let me knead dough for the first time, the first praises of my creations, the look on little children's faces when they eat a cookie, crumbs all over their mouths and pudgy fingers. Suddenly, I remember the image of Katniss, twelve and starving, picking up a dandelion in the schoolyard the day after I threw her the bread and smiling for the first time in months.

"I like seeing people happy, too," I tell her. "Something we have in common."

Her skin is so pale that I'm sure she blushes easily, but the hue of her cheeks is so dark I know that it is my doing. Rye would tell me to be proud of that, but my tongue begins to feel like chalk in my mouth. I wonder if Lily realizes what our parents are doing or if she is pleasantly ignorant.

My stomach still flops unpleasantly for the rest of our walk to school. Luckily she is in a different class than me and we separate almost immediately.

I slide into the chair besides Delly and groan, putting my head on the desk.

"I would say good morning, but it looks like yours isn't so hot," Delly says, putting her hand between my shoulder blades and rubbing in slow circles. "What happened?"

I make a noise in the back of my throat but don't lift my head. I want to disappear, fall through the floor of the school and sink into the earth. It just feels so wrong to play with Lily like what my parents are clearly insinuating that I should do. I wouldn't want Katniss to do that with me if the tables were turned.

Finally, I lift my head and Delly gives me a smile, her hand still rubbing my back. Over her shoulder I can just make out Katniss Everdeen's figure in the doorway. She stands there, her eyes unblinking, narrowed, and looking in our direction. I meet her eyes and for a minute she looks upset before shaking her head and storming into the room, taking her seat in the back besides Madge.

No, that's my head imagining things. Katniss scowls. She wasn't directing it toward me. It's just how she looks.

"You okay?" Delly asks.

I shake my head, spinning around to look at Katniss and Madge. Neither talks to the other. They sit and wait for the teacher, their eyes both downcast. Katniss doesn't look up at me and so I turn back to Delly.

"Yeah, I'm fine. Just didn't get a lot of sleep."

She gives me a look. "You don't say?" she laughs, reaching up to touch the skin under my eyes. "Your face speaks for itself, honey."

"Stop it." But I'm laughing, just as Delly knew would happen. She has a special gift for making me feel better, even after some of my mother's most vicious tirades. "Thanks."

Delly grins as our teacher walks into the room, but I can see in her eyes that she's not entirely satisfied and will probably ask more questions later. But for now she lets it slide and I'm grateful for that.

...

Katniss Everdeen and Madge Undersee have sat at the same lunch table every day since we all moved to upper school and not once has anyone else tried to sit with them, Town kids and Seam kids alike. I always thought it was odd that Gale never sat with her, but every day the two girls sit, alone, and don't really talk to each other. I've watched them enough to know that they seem to have their own way of communicating without speaking, one that comes with having spent a lot of time with someone and knowing their habits.

For example, Madge always splits her sandwich in half and Katniss always scowls at her, but ultimately they each eat one half of the sandwich.

Like everyday, I watch them from afar, trying to build up enough courage to go over there and say hi, and like every other day I fail. You'd think that after having broken the ice with Katniss on our walk a few weeks ago, that it would be easier for me to break it again. Unfortunately, that doesn't appear to be the case. I'm still as intimidated by her as I've always been.

I turn my attention back to the conversation going on at my own table.

My table has seated most of the same kids since midway through lower school, when girls stopped having cooties. Delly, of course, and Hersh Donner, the two I would consider to be my best friends. Lily has always sat with us too, but only today has she decided to sit beside me. We also sit with Fox Mackie, the tanner's son, and Carnie's sister, Violet. Those are the regulars but our table always has a rotating set that comes to sit with us as well. Our table is always full. Today, apparently, the topic of conversation is about Carnie and Rye finally tying the knot.

Hersh turns to me. "Well, maybe you'll finally win the tournament, eh?" he says, his smile teasing.

Last year, I came in second in the school's annual wrestling tournament and of course it had to be to Rye. He didn't let me live it down. If I had won, he might have dropped Munchkin as my nickname. So Rye might be the tallest of the three of us, but not by much. I didn't mind losing. It would have been much more embarrassing for Rye to lose to me than the other way around and the tournament is really a distraction anyway. There is a reason it is held during the first weeks of school. They're trying to make us forget about what we just saw on the televisions, bring our minds away from our two classmates who are dead.

"Who knows," I reply. "There might be someone hiding in the woodwork."

Hersh rolls his eyes at me and I push his shoulder. "Can you let me dream for a minute?" he exclaims. "You're as close as I'll ever get to winning the thing."

Delly shakes her head. "I'm astonished by how encouraging you are," she says, her voice so deadpan she can't be anything other than sarcastic. "That is exactly why he would want to win, for you."

With a smirk, Hersh stands up from his seat next to me and walks around the table, plopping down next to Delly and giving her a hug. She yelps. "Why are you so nice to everyone and yet you act like I'm a monster," he says, his eyes closed tightly and his nose scrunched up jokingly, pretending to hold back tears.

She shakes her head but the rest of our table keeps laughing. Their banter isn't unusual. The two of them have had this sort of rapport since we were little and I don't see it stopping any time soon.

Lily puts her hand on mine and smiles at me. "I think you can win," she says, so softly that I can barely hear her over the ruckus Hersh and Delly are making. I smile at her, thank her, but can't push down the lump in my throat.

Once Lily looks back to Hersh and Delly, I turn my head to Katniss and Madge again, to see if the loud noises from our table have captured their attention. It hasn't. Both of them are sitting quietly with their heads down, finishing their lunches and not speaking.

The rest of my day goes as anticipated. In class we learn about coal and how it's used, as if we were all oblivious to its function. I walk home and the bakery is bustling with people, so I head into the back to see if they need help. Dad is up to his elbows in dough and my brothers are decorating tray after tray of cookies. Without asking, I pick up a bag of frosting and start in on one of the trays.

Dad gives me a look but doesn't say anything. Barley and Rye are just happy for my assistance. Business always seems to pick up after the Games for a few days, mostly because the trains have come in with supplies and everyone has materials to stock their shelves again. We're quiet as we work, but then again, I was always the blabbermouth. Without me talking, no one really starts any conversation and so we're quiet.

The next few days aren't much better. I wake up and Dad insists that he owes a loaf of bread to the Parkinsons. I walk to school with Lily. I watch Katniss from afar without getting up and doing anything about it. I help out with the bakery. This continues until my mother catches my arm when I walk into the bakery on Wednesday, which is her day off and a day that she's normally off with her friends. Rye is managing the front, Dad and Barley out back, and Mother is sitting behind the counter waiting for me.

She pulls me off to the corner, out of hearing range of the customers.

"What are you doing?" she asks.

"I'm working."

She gives me a look. "Your job," she hisses in my ear, "is to make sure Lily doesn't realize what an idiot you are and move on to the next hopeless fool. Honestly, Peeta, get with it."

Mrs. Gorman's eyes flicker in our direction as she orders her bread from Rye and Mother pulls away from me, laughing and putting her hand over her heart. As many faults as I can find with my mother, being a terrible actress is not one of them. In fact, I know I inherited my way with words and my fast thinking from her.

"Oh, Peeta," she says, a large smile gracing her features and making her almost look pretty. "Of course you can go take the afternoon off. Enjoy your time with Lily."

Rye drops Mrs. Gorman's bread on the ground, but she's not paying any attention. Mrs. Gorman is smiling and I know her well enough that as soon as she leaves the bakery the entire district will know what she just saw. Mother winks at me and turns away, walking to the counter and pinching Rye's arm out of Mrs. Gorman's view. He hurries to get a new loaf.

"They're just so cute together. I couldn't have paired it better myself," she says, giggling. For a moment, I'm stunned still. I can't move even if I tried. "Hopefully they'll make it official soon."

The anger breaks through in one swift motion. I grit my teeth to keep from yelling out and then push my way into the back room. Dad and Barley both look up from their work and Dad at least looks concerned. Barley reaches out to grab me but I shake it off and storm toward the back door. They can't help me and I don't want them to try either. I want to be mad for a moment.

I know what I should do, but I don't head to the apothecary immediately. I don't take the walk to calm down. Instead, I collapse under the tree in the backyard, grinding my teeth together as the pigs squeal, thinking it's time to be fed because they heard the door. My arms come up to cover my face and I scream into my elbow until I have no voice left, my lungs drained of air. I take a deep breath in.

Moving my arms away from my face, I chance a look at the sky, hoping the bright blue and puffs of white will help me stop seeing red. I let out a breath and force myself to think about the colors, what sort of berries I would have to get my hands on to make the sky come to life. I tried making paint once a few years ago when a basket of berries went bad. Dad let me have them to experiment considering we couldn't use them.

I feel a little more in control than I had when I first left the bakery and I turn over to stand up. I know what I have to do. Hanging out with Lily is preferable to having my mother come out here and yell at me. However, when put my hands to the ground to push myself up, I freeze, seeing something in the distance.

Not something. Someone.

"Katniss?"

She stands near the corner of the bakery, near the display window and the road. I stare at her, wondering if this is real or an illusion. Suddenly, I hear someone else call her name and then see a little blonde girl come to her side, pulling her back toward the front of the bakery. Katniss disappears, following behind her sister and out of my sight.

I pinch myself, wondering how this could possibly be real, but the telltale ache tells me it is.

In the past when I was the kid at the counter on the days my mother had off, I would sometimes see Katniss and Primrose stop by to look at the cakes in the window. This is what keeps my heart from soaring out of my chest and into the clouds. Katniss didn't seek me out – she's here with her sister.

Standing up, I push Katniss out of my head. I can't be thinking about her when I go see Lily. It's not fair to either of us.

But I can't help it. Instead of taking off toward the apothecary, I walk up to the side of the building and watch. Katniss is standing off to the side, her arms crossed as she watches her sister and three dark-haired kids press their faces to the display window. My mother must not still be in the front of the store, because if she was she would have already chased them off. My guess is that she's in the back having words with my father, who isn't happy about the way she went about what she did.

Primrose points at one of the cakes, telling Katniss to come look. I watch as Katniss glances inside, biting her lip, and then goes to stand by her sister. All four younger kids look up at Katniss, waiting to hear her response, and I can't help but smile. She doesn't understand the effect she has on people.

"That one is very pretty," she says, putting her hand on the younger boy's head for a second. She reaches down and grabs the littlest of the four, a tiny girl with two black pigtails, situating her on her hip. "But we have to get going. Take one more look."

Primrose looks the most put out, her shoulders flopping and her lip pouted out, but Katniss is already heading toward the road, the little girl on her hip squealing for the trio still at the window to hurry up. The three kids hop along behind her. Primrose takes her free hand, swinging it between them, as the boys fall in step beside them. I watch them as long as they're in sight, until they're nothing more than spots in the distance.

Then I stuff my hands in my pockets and walk, very slowly, in the direction of the apothecary.

Ultimately, I know my mother's right and I absolutely hate that. I don't want to work in the mines. No one does. But, I especially don't think I could handle working in the mines if I had to continue watching Katniss from afar. Watching her date other people, get married, have babies with grey eyes and dark hair, not blue eyed or blond. I'm not sure how long I would last if I had to go home to an empty house.

It's not that I haven't noticed other girls before. It's just that I am always brought back to Katniss. I have a bad habit of comparing everyone to her. And it would be so much easier to forget about Katniss Everdeen if she didn't pop into my life when I'm least expecting her to, if she was merely a passing presence in the hallways or another face in the cafeteria. And maybe she is and I'm just so focused on her that I forget that.

But every time I see her I get my hopes up and, every time I see her, my hopes get dashed because I'm not able to do anything.

The apothecary comes into view too soon and I spend a few minutes standing in front of the door, unable to lift my hand to the knob. This is what I'm supposed to be doing and Lily really likes me although I'm not really sure why. There isn't anything special about me that she couldn't find in someone else, someone who loves her for her and not for her business.

But that happens in Town. Look at my parents. People marry strategically so they don't have to leave what little comfort that being a merchant can give over being a miner. While things aren't perfect for merchants and we still struggle, it's nothing like what goes on in the Seam.

I let out a breath and reach for the doorknob.

There isn't anyone in the apothecary right now, just Mr. Parkinson writing something down in a ledger. He lifts his head at the bell and smiles, setting his pen down and pushing the notebook off to the side.

"Well, look at you," he says with a grin. "You get taller every time I see you."

"I'm still shorter than Rye," I tell him.

He shrugs and lifts his hands as if to say _touché_. "Don't count yourself out yet," he says. "Rye's growth spurt came around your age too, you know."

The bell above the door rings and I turn to see who just entered. It's a tiny sprig of a girl, clearly from the Seam. Her dirty clothes hang off her and her stringy black hair hasn't been cut in years. She's probably six or seven, maybe eight at the oldest, not reaping age. Her shoes are covered in coal dust.

Mr. Parkinson's eyes narrow as the girl approaches the desk. She reaches into her pocket and withdraws a single coin, putting it on the counter, and then steps back, wringing her hands nervously.

"Speak," Mr. Parkinson barks, his tone the opposite of what it had been just moments before with me.

"M-my papa needs medicine," she says, shrinking into herself. She points at one of the medications on the list behind him.

Mr. Parkinson doesn't even look. He glares at her, making her shrug even further into herself, as if she's trying to become one with the floor. "Medicine is expensive," he sneers. "Why don't you ask your Seam healer about a replacement therapy."

"She said he needed the medicine from here."

A snort of laughter passes through Mr. Parkinson's lips. "Exactly." He grins, as if pleased that the healers in the Seam can't produce something with similar healing properties. "And you know why? Because it comes from the Capitol and that means a measly coin like that isn't going to make a dent in the cost."

"I can trade," she pleas, reaching for her backpack. She pulls out a few old dresses that look more like rags, and I wince. Mr. Parkinson's face is red with fury.

"I don't barter. Now get out of my store before I call Peacekeepers and have you removed."

The girl doesn't have to be asked twice. She shoves the items back into her bag and rushes by me, the door opening and shutting almost before the bell can ding.

My heart jumps into my throat as I watch the girl run away. Mr. Parkinson has never hid his distain for the Seam. He will treat them if they have the correct amount in coins, but never barter with them, whereas he'll be more lenient with people he deems of higher status. He's not alone in his practices, in fact he's in the majority, but whenever I see it I'm still shocked. Perhaps it's because of what goes on at our back door and why we have squirrel meat every Sunday.

Mr. Parkinson shakes his head and rolls his eyes. "Sorry you had to see that," he says to me. "But those people just don't understand, coming in here expecting charity." He rubs the area between his eyebrows and lets out a breath. "Now, I'm assuming you didn't stop in to talk with me. What do you need?"

I'm still flustered by the scene that played out before me, but I manage to get out that I was wondering if Lily was here. He yells into the back and Lily walks out from the back room, smiling in surprise when she sees me standing here.

"Peeta?"

"I have the day off," I tell her. "I was wondering if you were free to hang out?"

Lily looks up at her father and Mr. Parkinson nods his head. She squeals, hugging him, before taking off her gloves and coming to my side. I open the door for her, using the manners my father taught me, and look into the distance.

The little girl from the Seam is long gone.

* * *

_Notes_

I chose Glimmer as the ultimate victor for a specific reason. Because Katniss is not there to drop the Tracker Jacker nest, Glimmer and the girl from D4 are still alive when the Games enter the final eight. Cato kills the D4 girl when he sees Clove's body, while Glimmer and Marvel (still alive because Katniss is not there to kill him over Rue) head to the woods, as seen in the last chapter. This leaves a final five of Thresh, Cato, Foxface, Glimmer and Marvel – mirroring Katniss and Peeta being the only duo. Ultimately, the two end up in the final after beating Cato, much like Katniss and Peeta, but without the bond (and rule change) Glimmer has no problem using her last arrow to kill Marvel rather than save his life.

The four kids Katniss was walking home when Peeta sees her at the bakery are Prim, Rory, Vick, and Posy. For those wondering how Posy is in kindergarten even though at the present time she's four, I have decided that in this fic the classes are arranged by reaping age, therefore anyone who turns five prior to July 1, which is my reaping date for this fic, goes to kindergarten so everyone in the class is part of the same reaping age group – everyone in the class is five, no older no younger, on July 1. Posy is four years younger than Katniss, born the year her father died, thus Posy would be turning five in the coming winter and be part of the reaping group heading to school. You'll also notice Prim and Rory are in upper school. I took creative license to have lower school go until the first reaping, after which they enter upper school. I'm sure neither of these two scenarios is how it actually worked, but it made the most sense to me.

Thank you so much for all the support. I'm so glad you all enjoy this. Your reviews means so much.

Back to Katniss in chapter four.


	4. Four

_Seam_

I don't know what I expected to find the first Sunday after the Games, but it sure wasn't Rory Hawthorne sitting next to the opening of the fence that Gale and I tend to use. He was sitting, his head bobbing as he forced his eyes open, clearly exhausted and not used to being awake this early. Looking around, I expected to see his brother, but Gale wasn't anywhere to be found.

And, I suppose, I realized that would be the case. Gale did say he needed time. But was this really going to affect him being my hunting partner? Instead he sends his twelve-year-old brother out to do his work?

Rory blinked awake when he saw me. "Hey, Katniss," he said, fighting a yawn. "Gale said he needs to get some rest before he starts work tomorrow and that you said you'd teach me how to hunt if I got here bright and early."

That was a week ago.

It only took me ten minutes that first time with him out beyond the fence to realize that Rory is not his brother. He's a good kid like my sister, but he's almost as useless out here as Prim would be too. He has a bit more grit than she does though, so I imagine he'll be able to take on a hunter's head someday. Unfortunately, that wasn't a week ago and it certainly isn't today. We're only a few hundred yards off from the fence and he's already snapped at least a dozen roots under Gale's old hunting boots. I remind myself that it takes time to become as comfortable and skilled at navigating the woods as Gale and me, but I'm not sure how I'm going to teach him if he keeps scaring all the game away.

He snaps another root. Lucky number thirteen. Looks like I'll be out here again tomorrow.

"I'm sorry, Katniss," he says, sitting on a nearby rock and putting his head in his hands.

I sit down next to him and nudge his shoulder with mine, gritting my teeth when I think of how empty our game bags will be. "It's okay," I tell him, using the voice I use with Prim when I'm trying to make her feel better. "We can forage today. Let me teach you about berries."

We really should be hunting. We don't have the luxury of missing a day with so many mouths to feed between us. I start calculating in my head how much I can get on my own if I put Rory to work picking berries, but I'll still have to come back out tomorrow after school.

I mentally curse Gale. Really, this is why love is ridiculous. It always fails you. My mother is useless. Gale can't even come over the fence with me. I have to do everything myself.

I move toward the bushes to show Rory which berries to collect. It looks as though the last of this season's strawberries are still good. If we get a decent bucket we can sell them to the mayor. I don't hear Rory's stomps behind me and so I turn. He's still sitting on the rock, his face hard and his eyes narrow. I've spent enough time with Gale in the past to know what this face means when seen on a Hawthorne boy and I'm really not in the mood to deal with a rant right now.

"Rory, get over here."

"No," he says. "We need meat, not berries, or Gale will come out. He's so tired, Katniss, and it's only been a week!" He clenches his fists and looks down at his feet. "I can't do that to him."

Rory unclenches his fists and pulls one of the arrows out of his quiver, testing the sharpness of the tip with his finger. I have him using Gale's old bow, the one we made when we first decided to help each other, but Gale already looked like a man four years ago and the bow is still big for Rory. I know his attitude isn't so much about wanting to follow in Gale's footsteps as it is repaying a debt to his brother, who was everything but his father while he was growing up. I know the feeling of debt. I wonder if there's anyone in the Seam who doesn't feel like they owe something to someone.

"Okay, I get that, but you come over here," I tell him. "If you fill a bucket of strawberries, the trade we'll get from the mayor is as good as a couple squirrels."

Rory's eyes widen and he stands up. "Really?"

I nod. "You pick the strawberries and fill the bucket. I'll hunt. Sound good?"

He looks skeptical, but nods.

"And don't pick anything else!" I shout over my shoulder while I grab my bow. The last thing I need is Rory picking something poisonous on accident. "Only the strawberries! You hear me?"

"Got it, Katniss!"

I only go a few more yards into the woods, just in case I hear Rory yelling so I can get to him in a moment's notice. But it's enough, now that Rory is finally quiet and not snapping branches behind me. I shoot a few squirrels and a rabbit before heading off to check the snare line. Last week, given that we couldn't check it for the entirety of the Games, the line was a disaster. Most of the snares were full of half-eaten carcasses. This week it's better. I pull another two rabbits and a raccoon out of them and shoot a few more squirrels. My bag is full by the time I make it back to Rory, strawberries filling the bucket about three-fourths of the way to the top. I figured he'd be done by now.

He turns to me when I settle down next to him. "I think these are the only good strawberries left," he says. "The rest are kind of gross."

Had it been Gale picking the berries, he would have picked the ones that were turning first and put them in the bottom, so they'd be covered by the better looking berries. Rory only seemed to pick the biggest and ripest ones. I notice a few more that are fine for trade and set them on the top.

"Good job, Rory," I say.

"What did you get for game?" he asks, his eyes moving to peek at my bag.

I show him and it's comical how his eyes widen. Our haul ends up smaller than I'm used to when working with Gale, but it's still enough to take down to the Hob and maybe, depending on what happens there, see what we can get out of the baker. We walk back up to the fence and I go through first, in the unlikely instance that there are Peacekeepers on the other side waiting to catch us. Rory doesn't have any game on him, so he wouldn't be punished for poaching, but I don't particularly want to risk anything. I don't think Gale would ever speak to me again if that happened.

Thinking about Gale makes me both angry and upset, so I try not to for too long. With him in the mines all day I don't have a chance to see him, even if the incident hadn't of happened. I just want things to go back to the way they were before Gale started this mess and I wonder how long that it will take to do so.

I took Rory to the Hob last week and I know Gale had taken him a few times before, so at least I don't have to show him around when we get there. We stop off with Sae and she puts a bowl of soup down in front of Rory while I fish out a rabbit for her that came in on the snare line.

Darius falls into the seat I'm about to take and smiles at me. "Hello, Katniss," he purrs, batting his eyelashes at me before turning to Rory. "Little Gale."

Rory rolls his eyes and Sae reaches across the table to hit Darius with her ladle. He looks up at her with a wounded expression. According to the law, hitting a Peacekeeper, even in jest, could result in terrible penalties, but our Peacekeepers are very lenient. Darius is one of the best. If it weren't for his messy red hair and uniform, it'd be easy to picture him living in the Seam.

"Where's your hunky boy toy?" Darius asks, stuffing his face with a spoonful of Sae's soup. He swallows and nods his head to Rory. "You trade down or something?"

"Hey!" Rory squeals.

I shake my head. "Don't listen to him, Rory," I say, glaring at Darius. "And, for your information, Gale works in the mines. Rory's my partner now."

That shuts Darius up. As much as he plays up his arrogance, I think he genuinely cares about the people he meets in our district.

"How's that goin'?" Sae asks.

Rory stirs the soup slowly and doesn't look up. I'm not sure if it's because he doesn't want to answer or if the soup doesn't taste good. Either is a good possibility. But when he doesn't answer, I guess he's leaving that to me. I shrug and let Sae take that as she wants. I have nothing to say for Gale. Not anymore.

When I said no to a relationship with Gale, I thought we would go back to normal. How hard would it be to fall out of love with me? It didn't take him that long to fall into it, or at least I'm assuming so since for the first few years of our friendship we weren't even really friends. I was the annoying kid that Gale tolerated because I could teach him to shoot. It took a long time to evolve our tolerance of each other into a friendship formed by convenience and finally becoming what we are...or were until the reaping. Why can't he just shut down that part of his heart that went into overdrive and settle it back into a friendship with me, rather than deciding to love me?

Sae reaches across the table and takes my hand, squeezing it in her withered one. It's meant to comfort me. I've seen miners' wives do that with girls a little older than me. I've heard those girls talk at school about how terrified they are when their boyfriends graduate and start working, and I understand the fear when I think about the accident that killed my father. Sae must really pity me, after losing my father and then sending Gale to the same place, and while it is hard to think of him down there, it's not in the way they think. Gale is my friend, my best friend, and it's hard to imagine him working in a place so polar opposite to the woods, where he is the happiest.

Gale's words still stick with me, despite him having said them so long ago. Half the Seam was betting on us. I'm sure everyone in this Hob expected Gale and I to end up together. But, of course, none of them knew my thoughts on marriage and children. They just saw us together so much. It's not like Gale, who blatantly ignored my opinions, and fell in love with me anyway. I tell myself that it's his own fault and I shouldn't feel so bad about it.

I just want my hunting partner and best friend back.

A lump forms in my throat and I turn away to pretend to look at some of the items Sae has at her stand. "Damn you, Gale," I whisper to myself.

Once I shake that off, I turn back to Rory. "You almost ready?"

"Yep!" He lifts the bowl to his mouth and slurps the rest, wiping his mouth with the back of his hand. "Thank you, Sae!"

"No, thank you," she says, gesturing to the rabbit behind her.

I say goodbye to both Sae and Darius before pulling Rory out of the Hob. We don't really need to trade for anything else today. I can do that tomorrow. I just need to get out of there and not have everyone looking at me anymore, pitying me for something that isn't true. We can use the meat more than we can use materials at the Hob anyway. Now we definitely have enough to trade with the baker and we can do that on our way back from the Undersees' house.

Rory has never been this deep into Town. It doesn't surprise me. Gale only traveled this far if he was trading with the mayor and even then he did so begrudgingly. Rory sticks close to my side and I notice a pair of Town women eyeing us as we walk, turning to talk to each other behind their hands as we pass. I hurry Rory just a bit faster, enough so we'll get away from them sooner but not so much that he'll notice our sudden change of speed.

"You're going to learn how to barter today, Rory," I tell him as we approach the mayor's home. "Once we sell the strawberries here, we'll go to the bakery."

He frowns. "Sell?"

I nod. "The mayor can afford to buy them. We barter with the shops."

We approach the back door and I give it a firm knock. It takes a few moments, but soon we can hear the shuffle on the other side and the door swings open, revealing Madge, not the mayor. She smiles when she sees us, but I notice the curious look she gives Rory. She was probably expecting Gale.

We exchange pleasantries before Madge goes back into the house to fetch money for the berries. Once she comes back, she puts the money in my hand and Rory passes her the bucket. We say our goodbyes and almost before the door is shut Rory explodes in excitement at seeing the coins in my hand. I shush him but remember the first time Gale and I traded with the mayor. He had to shush me too.

I quickly check my bag on our way through Town to ensure we have enough squirrels to get a decent trade at the bakery and have some meat to spare. I want to start Rory off bartering with the baker, since I feel as though he is the best to work with. He's a nice man and has a real taste for squirrel meat. The other merchants can be temperamental but the baker doesn't seem to care that we're from the Seam. He gives us a fair trade every time.

I have Rory knock. Mr. Mellark opens the door with a smile.

"Afternoon, Katniss," he says, wiping his hands on his apron. "Who's this?"

"Gale's little brother, Rory," I tell him. "My new hunting partner."

Like Darius, Mr. Mellark doesn't say anything about Gale's new job and ignores it by asking what I have for him. That's what I've always liked about Mr. Mellark. He's all business. I pick out two of the fatter squirrels and hold them up for his inspection. He nods and walks into the bakery for our usual two loaves.

He leaves the door open while he goes to wrap the bread and I sneak a peek inside. Peeta's two older brothers are both sitting at the table working, but he isn't anywhere in sight. Before I can think too much about it, Mr. Mellark comes out with the sourdough and we exchange the food and goodbyes. Rory takes the bread and smells it, not the least bit angry that it's not warm and was probably headed to the sale basket tomorrow morning anyway.

While Rory jabbers on – not at all like Gale who, like me, is comfortable with silence – I wonder where Peeta was. He was at the bakery when I traded last week and he was there on Wednesday when I saw him under the tree. I still can't believe I went back there that day. I heard the door slam and went to see what the noise was, afraid it was Mrs. Mellark coming to surprise us. But it had been Peeta, on the ground and yelling himself hoarse into his arm. He looked so upset under the tree and my heart began to ache. My mind had gone back four years, remembering myself sitting under that same tree waiting to die. Peeta saved me then.

For a minute I thought that was my chance to go thank him, repay my debt and help him with whatever was clearly bothering him, but I don't really believe in fate and Prim had interrupted. Besides, I stood frozen when he spotted me, unable to move under his stare.

I need to rid myself of the debt that I owe Peeta Mellark.

It's not for lack of trying. The first day of school I had made him a pastry with the flat dense bread we make from the tessera and some of Lady's cheese – it wouldn't be like the bakery pastries but I figured that he fed me once and no one turns down food as a thank you, at least not in the Seam. But then he was sitting with Delly, getting a back rub, and I had felt something bubbling in my stomach so I didn't give it to him. I let Prim eat it later that night instead.

I haven't come up with a better idea or one that might work. All I know is that I have to do it, now more than ever. It's just going to keep haunting me if I don't. I honestly don't think that there is a way to repay him fully, unless he suddenly finds himself in dire need of my mother's healing and I bring him to her, but even so he could probably afford to go to the apothecary in Town. He wouldn't need her and he doesn't need anything I can give.

There has to be a way. I just need to figure it out and then I can do it and be done with him.

...

The school's annual wrestling tournament starts the second week of school and normally lasts a few weeks. Every day after lunch for about a month, they hold a match or two with people who express interest in competing. A lot of the boys sign up, but not all of them. Gale absolutely abhorred it, said it was a waste of his time, and once Thom lost to Peeta's older brother in one of the later rounds last year, he started skipping out. The day of the finals, he asked if I wanted to go with him, claiming that he'd done it enough times to know we wouldn't get caught, and he wouldn't have asked me if he thought he would get me in trouble.

I found myself sitting next to Madge Undersee in the gym bleachers watching the Mellark brothers instead. Gale wasn't thrilled.

So far I haven't been paying too much attention to the matches. We're still in the first round and the majority of the boys wrestling won't be in the finals. I've actually thought about skipping out like Gale had last year, considering my haul this last hunt wasn't anything extraordinary. The money from the strawberries helped, but I still had to give most of my dinner to Prim last night and I need to go out after school today. It would be easy to slip through the doors without notice and hunt while the rest of the school is inside.

But I'm not out beyond the fence. I'm sitting next to Madge, watching as Peeta Mellark gets ready for his first match of the tournament. He's going up against another Town boy, whose name I never found interesting enough to learn. The crowd is already chanting "Mellark!" over and over again. I don't really doubt Peeta's ability to win. I've seen him lift heavy bags of flour over his shoulders before as he carried them from the trains to the bakery. He also came in second last year. He should make a good showing again this year, if he doesn't win the entire thing.

Our principal announces each of the boys and Peeta's applause thunders the loudest, even garnering cheers from some Seam kids. It shouldn't be surprising to me, given how nice Peeta is, that he can transcend the boundary that is always so firm and ridged, yet it is. I clap along with the crowd when Peeta's name is called. His eyes look up at the bleachers, as if he doesn't believe they're all clapping for him, and then he takes his position.

It is illegal to train for the Hunger Games, although it is hard to deny the Career districts do so. We don't, but I wonder if our teachers have staged this as a way to prepare our tributes, even in the slightest ways.

I have never wrestled anyone before, so I don't know if there is any special technique going on between Peeta and his challenger. It doesn't appear so as they roll around, grunting and pushing. It all looks very primal to me. Last year's final competition was very different than this. For the first few minutes Peeta and his brother were merely fooling around, tossing each other and making it a show for the audience, until his brother finally took charge and slammed Peeta so hard to the mat that I thought he was dead. My breath catches the same way now as it did then when I see Peeta's competition jab his forearm to Peeta's throat. That must be breaking some rule.

But Peeta is stronger than his competition and is able to effectively flip the boy. It is only then that I realize that I was holding Madge Undersee's hand so tightly that the tips of her fingers have turned a dark berry red. I let go and focus back on the boys.

It takes forever for Peeta to win, but finally the other boy just gets too tired and Peeta is able to get the upper hand. His friends, a group of blond Town kids that I see him sitting with at lunch each day, rush out of the bleachers to congratulate him. I watch as they surround him, losing his curly blond head as they do so. They get hurried off the main floor so they can hold another match before school lets out for the day. I can find Peeta again. He talks to two blonde girls and a boy as they sit in the front row. One of the girls is Delly Cartwright, the girl who was giving him a back rub. She looks so excited next to him, barely able to contain herself as she throws her arms around him.

Delly is a pasty-faced, lumpy girl with yellowish hair. Peeta must enjoy being around her due to her overwhelming kindness. The girl that sits on his other side looks vaguely familiar, but I can't think of her name. While Delly keeps talking to him, this girl puts her hand on his knee, probably trying to catch his attention. But he's so caught up in what Delly has to say that he doesn't seem to notice her.

The second match takes longer and I don't really pay too much attention to it. Instead I watch Peeta's interactions with his friends, trying to come up with a way to repay him. I can't think of anything though and it frustrates me so I try to ignore it. Once the match ends, I stand up with the rest of the people on my side of the bleachers and file out. I'm nearly to the door when I remember that I forgot my book in my locker. I almost decide to leave without it, but I'm afraid that if I don't do my reading again for this class, Mrs. Cromwell is going to report me and I'll have to pay the fine. She warned me last class, when I got my reading quiz back with a zero on the top, that if I didn't start paying attention she would.

I rush back through the empty halls and grab the stupid book. It's a novel about a miner's wife and I've read maybe two or three words of it. What should I care about a book written by some posh Capitol woman who has never even met a miner before yet thought it would be a good idea to write a book about his wife? But, nonetheless, we have another quiz on it tomorrow and if I fail I'm almost guaranteed a fine, which I cannot afford. I slam the door to my locker shut and then start to walk back toward the front, where Prim, Rory, Vick, and Posy will be waiting under the tree to walk home, when I freeze in my spot.

Peeta Mellark is at his own locker down the hall, dressed back in his school clothes and putting the shorts and t-shirt he wrestled in back in his locker. Maybe I could wash them. I berate myself for thinking that washing his gym clothes is enough to off-put saving my life.

He shuts his own locker door and can now see me, staring at him. He lifts his hand in my direction, just as he always does when he sees me. I never wave back but this time I do. I bite my lip and give a small wave. His face morphs, his eyes widening and his mouth dropping, and I turn, wondering if we're not the only people in the hallway and he was actually waving to someone else. It's only us, but I still put my head down and walk away with my book tight to my chest.

It's only after I'm outside, approaching the kids who wait for me under the tree, that I realize I could have used that to my advantage. I could have asked Peeta what I needed to do to repay my debt – how much I need to do in order to not owe him any longer. Or, at the very least, I could have thanked him specifically for the bread. It would have been one step closer.

Posy looks up at me and is full of giggles, waving a piece of paper around. "Look what I drew in art time, Katniss!" she exclaims, handing it to me.

"It's beautiful, Posy," I say, turning it a few times to try and figure out what it is based off the squiggles she's drawn.

"It's a tree!" she squeals, using her pointer finger as a guide as she shows me. "There are the branches and the bark and the trunk!"

"Good job," I tell her, but the fact that it's a tree does nothing to help me forget about Peeta Mellark.

I'm distracted for most of the walk home. Once we lose the Hawthornes at the corner, Prim eyes me curiously. We walk in silence most of the way to our house, but I know she's just biding her time until she thinks I'll be willing to tell her what's wrong with me today. But I'm not telling Prim. She wouldn't understand.

I immediately go into the bedroom to change into my hunting clothes so I can be back to start dinner at a reasonable hour. Our mother isn't home, probably going around to check on her patients that are too ill to travel to our home. Once I'm dressed and have my game bag, I walk back out into the living area. Prim is sitting at the table with her matted fleabag on her lap.

"Start your homework, Duck."

She rolls her eyes. "I don't want to."

This surprises me. Prim is always so well behaved. "Well, it's not up for discussion," I say. "Get your homework out and do it."

"I'll do it when you do yours," she replies, stroking Buttercup behind his ear. I swear that ugly little rat is smirking. "Where are you going anyway?"

"Out," I say. "I'll be back before dinner."

I turn around and grab her school bag from the floor, putting it on the table in front of her so she gets the message. Then I head toward the door, but she's not finished with me yet.

"Katniss?" she calls. I turn around. "Are you okay?"

"I'm fine."

She doesn't believe me. I can tell from the way her left eyebrow arches. It's the same thing our father used to do when we would say something he didn't believe to be true, when we tried to trick him into thinking we didn't have homework or something equally as dumb-sounding now that we have more pressing things to think about.

"Prim, I promise," I tell her, walking back and kneeling in front of her. "I'm okay. I just have a lot of stuff I have to do."

"So, it doesn't have to do with Gale?" she asks, staring into my eyes as she does it, probably trying to figure out if I'm lying when I answer.

"He's part of it, but it isn't just Gale," I tell her. That is true. It's mostly Peeta Mellark. I know Gale will come back in time, but my debt to Peeta sits on my heart. I stand up and kiss the top of her head. "Do your homework, okay? I'll be back soon."

As I stand, there's a knock on the front door. Prim leaps up to get it and I debate flying passed the patient out the front door or hiding in my room. The only people who ever knock on our door are patients for my mother and, depending on the injury or illness, just seeing it will make me nauseous. I'd rather not risk the feeling before I go out hunting so I retreat to the bedroom. The walls are flimsy so I'll still hear them, but if I cover my ears with one of the pillows and hum, sometimes I can block out some of their screams.

No screams come though when Prim opens the door and I can hear the wisps of normal conversation through my covered ears. Maybe it's one of her friends. Prim is social and has many friends in school and occasionally some of them will stop by the house. I lift the pillow from over my head and gather my game bag again, making sure I have everything. False alarm.

However, when I go to open the bedroom door, I realize Prim isn't talking to one of her friends.

The girl sitting at our table is Orchid Hill, a girl in my year who lives a few houses down from the Hawthornes. I don't know much about her, just that she's the oldest of a few kids and her father was killed in the same accident that killed mine. She looks like she's about to be sick but other than that completely healthy. I hope she's not giving Prim the flu right now. But Prim doesn't go to the books to ready a relief for her, so it must not be something simple like a stomach bug. Prim is skilled enough to treat those.

"I'd rather wait for my mother," Prim says as she sits down opposite Orchid. "I've never done it before and if it isn't done right it can be very dangerous."

Orchid nods and bites her bottom lip. "She'll do this, right?"

Prim shakes her head yes. "She'll want to have a talk with you though and make sure that you're not too far along. Also, she'll talk to you about whether or not you're sure you want to. Have you talked to your boyfriend? She'll want you to do that first."

A rosy hue dusts Orchid's cheeks. "I don't have a boyfriend...I..."

Prim shakes her head. "You don't have to say. It's your business."

I shut the door and go back into the bedroom, suddenly too embarrassed to walk out there. I've never really been friends with Orchid, but I still feel weird walking out there knowing what she's here for. I wonder if she went to Cray, stood in the line up at his house during the night. It makes me shiver just imagining it.

But what really has me shivering is Prim. Prim knew exactly what she needed, what she was talking about, and was so mature. I've tried to shelter my sister from all of that. She's only twelve, barely on her way to thirteen.

I need to go to the woods. I need to clear my head. I open the window and slide out so I don't have to go through the front and then run to the fence, but I don't think the woods will even be able to calm me tonight.

* * *

_Notes_

Delly's description – pasty-faced, lumpy girl with yellowish hair – comes from Katniss's description of her in the books. I loved the jealous undertone it gives so much that I just couldn't find a better way to phrase it.

I'm sure you can all guess, but the girl trying to get Peeta's attention away from Delly at the match is Lily.

In ancient Greece, orchids were a symbol of fertility and virility. Orchid comes to the Everdeens with an unwanted pregnancy.

Thank you to everyone who has followed, favorited, alerted, and reviewed this story. Your continued support means the world to me.

Up next: Peeta is back for Chapter Five. It is also the end of Part I, which means things will start to progress for these two knuckleheads. Thank you all for being so patient.


	5. Five

A/N: Please read this chapter to the very end before coming at me with pitchforks and know that Everlark is endgame. Also I'm not sure if this needs it or not, but I'd rather be safe than sorry – so trigger warning ahead.

Trigger warning: brief contemplation of electrocution.

* * *

_Town_

Katniss lifts her hand, her fingers curling down to her palm not once, not twice, three times. Three waves. The smile on her lips stretches out across her face. Her eyes dance in the light, shimmering in such a way that would be nearly impossible to capture with the dead bits of coal that I use to draw on old receipts and ledgers. She stands there, waiting, her shirt bellowing from the warm late summer breeze. The brick against my back makes it ache, the school insisting that I move my foot, my feet, one in front of the other. Move toward her, swiftly like the wind. Bring her into my arms, where she'll swoon and say my name in a voice that is nothing but breath.

And then a tiny girl with two black pigtails jumps into her outstretched arms and I'm brought out of my fantasy.

She wasn't waving to me. I knew that.

Since the day of my first match, when Katniss waved to me in the hall, she has barely left my mind. What have I done to warrant this change in behavior? She has never waved back before and I thought for sure that she was avoiding me after our walk home the day of the reaping because every time I see her she scurries away so fast I hardly know if she was real or just in my mind.

"Hey!"

I shake Katniss out of my head and turn around just as Hersh punches my arm with his fist. Fox laughs beside him.

"What are you looking at?" Hersh says, his eyes scanning the yard in front of us. Katniss is still at the tree, sitting with the little girl and waiting for the rest of their walking buddies, but Hersh doesn't even take a second glance in their direction. Of course I'm not looking at Katniss Everdeen. Why would Peeta Mellark be looking at Katniss Everdeen?

The right answer is that I shouldn't be.

"Nothing." I stuff my hands in my pockets and look away from Katniss. "What's up?"

"We've got the day off and are going to play a pick up game with Marcos's soccer ball," Fox says. "You in?"

I raise an eyebrow and Hersh shrugs. "He doesn't quite know we're taking it," he says, chuckling. "But Delly said he's on ledger today so it's not like he's using it anyway."

Marcos is Delly's younger brother and he's always chasing after us to let him join in on our activities. Usually we find a way to lose him, but other days we let him join us so on days like this we can benefit. Marcos is the one of the only kids we know that owns a soccer ball we can use.

"I can't," I say. I have to catch my sigh. "I'm walking Lily to the apothecary."

Every morning for the last week, I've walked with Lily to school. Today she asked if I would want to walk home with her. I had to say yes. She kissed my cheek outside the classroom door when I agreed and of course everyone saw. I've avoided Delly all day, electing to sit with Hersh during class today just so she wouldn't ask about it.

My mother is going to be thrilled when she hears.

"Yeah?" Hersh smirks. "What's up with that?"

"What's up with what?" I ask, noting that my tone is borderline defensive and too harsh for a question I should be expecting. Hersh's eyebrows rise in the slightest way, enough for me to know that he registered the odd tone of my voice. I'm supposed to be happy. "Just...I don't know. It's something. Maybe."

Fox glances between us and then slaps my shoulder. It's a little harder than I would have liked. "Well, good for you," he says. "If I had known she'd get this hot, I'd have gone for her before she went all mush for you."

Hersh shakes his head. "Just don't let her get in your head. You have a tournament to win."

Over their heads, I can see Lily walking out of the school with Violet and Delly. I tell Hersh and Fox goodbye before walking toward the girls. As I walk, I steal a quick glance back toward the tree. Katniss and her troop of kids are gone, walking somewhere down the road toward the Seam. Once we graduate, it will be easier. I know Katniss doesn't trade at the apothecary. Mr. Parkinson would never allow her bartering. Without her trading at the back door, we'll almost never see each other. Once we graduate, it will be easier.

Maybe if I keep repeating it, the words will come true.

"Hi, Peeta!" Violet says, giving me a warm smile as I approach.

"Hey." I nod in greeting before turning to Lily. "You ready to go?"

She nods and her lips stretch out toward her ears, dimples forming in her cheeks. She turns to the others. "I'll see you tomorrow," she says. Then she turns back to me. "Ready."

The apothecary and the school are on the opposite sides of Town with the school closer to the Seam. In order to walk Lily home we have to walk right through the center of Town. In the mornings, many people are still preparing for the day and don't take much notice in the kids walking through the streets. We walk through without much fanfare. In the afternoon, with the wives sitting at the counters getting bored as they wait for their kids to come take over, we won't be lucky enough to avoid the curious glances. By the time I get back to the bakery I'm sure my mother will already have heard from several customers that they've seen us. I can just imagine her face lighting up with the knowledge. She's protecting her reputation and destroying my dreams of Katniss Everdeen in one fell swoop.

I take a deep breath and attempt to forget about my mother. To do so, I look around us. There are children who have just gotten out of school playing in the street – skipping on fraying rope, girls playing with old rag dolls, boys chasing each other. Their giggles carry over the district and fill my ears, the warmth of it traveling down to my heart to mine away at the roughness my mother has put there. But, if I need to look at beautiful things I need to look no further than the girl beside me. Lily's smile is radiant, her smile that has not yet waned with the newness and excitement of whatever it is we're doing.

She is so blinded by her crush on me that she can't see that our parents are all but orchestrating our every move. I'm just waiting for the clarity to hit, when she begins to see through me and see that everything is nothing but pretend, a giant charade.

"Tonight is the final interview," Lily says, breaking the silence between us. "Where are you watching?"

The final interview with the Victor is always held a few weeks after the Games, once they've been taken back to their home district and paraded with parties. It's usually very quick, a half-hour at most, and showcases the lavish party the boy or girl is attending. Since this year it will be held in District 1, I have no doubt the party will be even more extravagant than usual.

"I'm not sure," I say. "I hadn't thought about it."

With the imported Peacekeepers back in the Capitol, watching the final interview isn't as enforced as watching the rest of the Games. Caesar isn't there and instead one of his minions travels to the districts to do it, so it's not even that big of a deal. Just another way to remind us of the glory and honor that comes with being a Victor. Our officials don't even throw up a screen in the square for it. Most people in Town have televisions, or friends with televisions, and only Seam people really need the government screen to watch. Watching the final interview is mostly about getting together with friends rather than actually paying attention to the interview. It would probably be different if the winner was from District 12, but that has never happened in my lifetime, so I wouldn't know.

Lily kicks a stone with the toe of her shoe. "Do you want to watch with me?"

"Uh." I kick myself and bite my tongue. Wrong answer. Lily's cheeks have turned bright red in embarrassment and it makes a pit form in my stomach. Quick, think. "I mean, my parents will be watching at home."

"Oh, that's okay!" Lily says, suddenly glad that my hesitation wasn't about her. "My parents are going over to the Walkers tonight for dinner so we could watch it at my house."

The smile spreading across my cheeks masks the lump forming in my throat. I don't understand what Lily finds so attractive about me. For whatever reason, she likes me and I'm trying my hardest to shield her from what's really going on. I wonder if that's more cruel than letting her know the truth. But I can't help but see the parallels to my own parents' relationship and she doesn't deserve that type of loveless arrangement.

I reach over and take her hand. "I'd love to."

She smiles and squeezes my hand.

I think in another world I could have fallen in love with Lily. We enjoy many of the same things. I'm attracted to her, I'd be lying if I said I wasn't, but my heart just won't let me take that final plunge and see anything further than the physical attraction. Maybe it's because it's too soon. But there's something that tells me my heart will never be able to fall over the cliff because it already has, for Katniss Everdeen.

So I relegate Katniss to my dreams, where she always was and will remain for as long as I live, and I try to focus my heart and my attention on Lily.

This isn't the first time that I've held hands with a girl, but it is the first time that I've done it in such a blatant display for the entire district to see. You don't just walk through the center of Town with someone, holding their hand, if it isn't something you want people to know about. It's such a simple action, but it holds so much importance. This is me buying into the act, doing the right thing, making Lily happy, my parents happy. So why does it leave my mouth dry and my stomach unsettled?

I'm aware of every eye on me today, greedily looking at our clasped hands and ready to run to their closest neighbor with the newest gossip. If Lily notices she doesn't make it known.

The walk to the apothecary takes a small eternity.

"Do you want to come in?" Lily asks, nodding her head to the door.

I shake my head. I need to time to myself. To think and come to terms with what is going on. "I have to work today, but I'll come back for the interview," I tell her.

She covers her disappointment well, but I suppose it's easier to handle me leaving when she knows that I'll be back. She goes to kiss my cheek again, like she did in school today, and I let my eyes scan the windows of the apothecary. Inside there are a few women watching us, smiling, and talking to each other with their hands over their hearts.

"Bye, Lily," I say as soon as she has her feet back flat to the ground. "I'll see you later."

It's a rushed exit and one that if I was thinking more wouldn't have happened, but I just have to get away. I turn around and stuff my hands in my pocket and try to catch my breath. My throat constricts and I know that I can't walk through Town like this. Instead, as soon as Lily walks through the door, I head in the opposite direction from the bakery, breaking into a sprint. But I can only go so far until I'm trapped, the fence keeping me inside. I drop to my knees a few feet in front of it, staring at the barbs. The fence stretches into the sky, as if they're afraid of anything but the birds that can fly over it. A hundred yards away from the fence the trees sway in the breeze, taunting me. The leaves flicker gracefully at the tops of the trees.

I find myself crawling forward like a child who hasn't learned to walk. The freedom of the woods is so tantalizing that for a brief moment I wonder how many people before me have been so enthralled by the notion of it that they're willing to risk electrocution just to have a taste of it. At this moment, I'm more than willing.

My hand reaches forward before I can think to stop and latches onto the one of the thick metal coils.

Nothing.

I squeeze a few times, wondering when I'm going to suddenly shock myself, when the electricity is going to start coursing through my veins and kill me right here. But it never comes. I'm alive, my hand on the fence. I bring my other to the wire as well and come to an upright position on my knees, looking out into the woods. I wait for what seems like hours for the shock, the bolt of power rushing from my fingers through my body so it can find purchase in the ground. I shake the fence, hearing the clang of it as it rustles in my fingers. But again, nothing happens.

There is no electricity powering the fence. It's just a bunch of wire and barbs.

I lean back and let go, falling to the ground to sit. My arms curl around my knees, bringing them toward my chest, as I stare out into the woods. My mind spins, overwhelmed by the information I've just acquired. The fence is always on. It keeps us safe from harm. What if there is something wrong with the power supply? How long will it take for the Capitol to fix it? I suppose they'll figure it out tonight, when the televisions don't turn on. The officials will be scrambling to get it back on. It's their safety too that's at stake.

My eyes scan the forest line, trying to see if there are any animals out there who have noticed what I have, but all I see are swaying branches and rustling leaves. The animals don't care about the fence. They want to be safe, just like we do.

With another look and a deep breath, I stand and turn around. The fence will be back on again tomorrow, maybe even tonight, and everything will be alright.

I head back to the bakery, walking through Town with my head still spinning. I wonder if I should tell the mayor or if I should head to the Justice Building. Either way I won't be seen. You have to be someone important to see the mayor and the people at the Justice Building are always so snooty to teenagers they probably wouldn't believe me. I figure they'll find out tonight, when the televisions don't turn on and they realize that the power is out.

We only use a spare amount of power in our homes. Just for the televisions, really. We use candles and our fireplaces for light and heat. Gas is expensive, but occasionally we use that too. The brick ovens in the bakery run on coal. With the ovens on in the summer, the bakery and apartment above turn into hot boxes. On really hot days in summer, my brothers and I used to climb on the roof and sleep outside, the hot sticky air better than the rising heat from the baking breads. We've never really had much use for electricity. It's much too expensive, even more costly than the gas.

My mother sits at the counter when I walk into the bakery. She smiles when she sees me.

"How was school?" she asks, sitting a bit straighter in her chair as I approach.

I shrug. "Fine."

"And Lily?"

The way she says it, so offhandedly and casual, makes my teeth grind. It doesn't match her facial expression at all. Her eyes widen, her head tilts to one side. It reminds me of the dogs that come over from the Seam, thin and pawing at doors looking for shelter, digging through the trash for something to chew.

"Fine," I grunt.

She snorts and smiles smugly. "I heard about you two holding hands," she says. "See, Peeta, it isn't that hard."

I roll my eyes and try to push passed her, but she stands up and catches my arm. "It will be in your best interest to fall for her," she says. "Learn to love her so you don't end up miserable."

I snort. "What, like you and Dad?"

She sucks in a breath and glares at me. "She genuinely cares about you," she hisses. "Don't make her your second choice after an ungrateful Seam brat."

The bell above the door rings shrilly through the quiet room. When my mother lets go, plastering a smile on her face as she greets the customer, I can see marks in my forearm from where her nails dug into my skin.

I walk through the door into the back. Dad and Barley are working on kneading dough. Rye is decorating. I pull up a chair next to him and grab a bag of frosting to help. The room is so quiet I can hear myself breathing. I wonder if they heard what just happened and if they even care.

Rye's eyes are on me as I decorate the cookies. I don't need to look up. I can feel his gaze and I don't particularly want to meet it. I end up finishing an entire tray by myself, cranking them out in a fury only rivaled on our busiest days. Dad, Barley, and Rye don't disturb me and let me channel my frustration into the work. It's good for them anyway – the more I do the less it leaves for them.

Eventually I run out of cookies to decorate. I look for more things to do, but Dad gives me a look and a slight shake of his head. They don't need me anymore. When I was younger I used to love seeing that. It meant I was finally free to go outside and play with my friends. Now, the look is nothing more than a reminder of what my life is becoming.

Rye sets his frosting bag down and turns to me. "Do you want to swing by tonight?" he asks, his eyes glancing toward the door into the front.

He means well. He thinks this invitation will get me out spending the evening with our mother and allow me to relax. Unfortunately, I have to decline. I shake my head. "I can't," I tell him. "I'm heading over to Lily's soon."

Rye's mouth forms a tight line but he doesn't say a word. Barley's eyes flit up to look at me before turning back to his work. My father doesn't look. He is either too engrossed in the cake he's decorating or choosing not to hear what I just said. Given how tight a space the back room is, I'm inclined to believe he's ignoring it.

Dad doesn't speak until Mother closes the front of the store, when he tells us that we can go. He'll finish up. Barley elects to stay behind to help anyway, but Rye and I put our aprons down and leave. I feel like I'm suffocating and the air is only going to get thicker and harder to breathe the closer I get to the apothecary.

We walk out the front door and out onto the main road. Once the door closes, Rye shuffles his feet and I wait for him to say something – goodbye, see you later, something tinged with crude humor like he did so many times before the reaping. That all stopped the day Dad sent me to the apothecary with the bread.

"Want me to walk with you?" he asks.

He's actually gritting his teeth, his hands clenched into fists at his side. As brothers, none of us have ever been extraordinarily close. Rye and Barley were too close in age to do anything but argue and I was always too young to be included. For the most part, the three of us are singular entities. But after Barley moved out last year and it was just the two of us, Rye and I sort of bonded. We'll never be the same siblings as Katniss and Primrose, but it's a start.

I shake my head. "Nah, man, you don't have to," I tell him. "It's in the complete opposite direction from your place."

He kicks the step and bites his lip. For a minute I think he's going to argue with me, so I cut him off before he can think about it.

"Rye, seriously. I'm a big boy. I can walk a couple hundred yards."

He looks inside the bakery, where everything is tidied by my mother's hand in preparation for the start of tomorrow's workday. When he turns back to me, his lip is curled upward, his nostrils flared.

"Are you okay?"

My entire family knows about Katniss. She's like a ghost among us. It's hard for my brothers not to know when we share a room so small that we're practically on top of each other. I have a feeling that this heart to heart, if you can even call it that, isn't because Rye is genuinely concerned about my wellbeing. He married for love, something I won't be able to do, and he feels guilty.

"I'm going to have to be," I tell him, plastering a smile on my face. "Now you go home to your wife. She's probably waiting for you."

He nods and we part ways, Rye toward home and me toward my future.

Lily is waiting in the front of the apothecary for me when I arrive, knocking on the locked front door. By the looks of it, her parents have already left for the Walkers and it's just her inside. She ushers me in with a smile and I keep telling myself to try to have a good time. Lily and I get along well. Maybe, if I stop being so wounded about losing my chances with Katniss, I can start to appreciate Lily.

The apartment above the apothecary is similar to the one above the bakery. It has a small kitchen and a sitting room, two bedrooms, and not much else. A closet here and there. A bathroom. She leads me to the sitting room, where her family has the television set up in the corner. The television has yet to turn on and it reminds me of the fence. I wonder what everyone will say when they realize the power is out and their televisions don't turn on.

"How was work?"

I startle at Lily's voice. I had almost forgotten that she was here, despite this being her house. "Oh, it was fine," I tell her. "It was work. What did you do?"

She sits down on one end of the couch and curls her legs up under her. "I mixed up some remedies for my father. It was technically my day off, but I didn't have anything else to do."

I feel bad that I ran out on her when I know my mother wouldn't have minded if I stayed here rather than gone to the bakery. They don't need me there. I'm more useful to them trying to seduce myself into falling in love with Lily. If I had known that she was planning on using her day off to hang out with me instead of her friends, I might have stayed behind. Or I might have insisted I walk her home another day and let her stay with Violet and Delly.

"I'm sorry," I say.

She shakes her head and waves me off with her hand. "It's fine. Now I have an extra day off whenever I want. You actually did me a favor." She smiles and nods to the couch. "Are you going to stand the whole time or...?"

"Oh." I take the spot next to her. The couch isn't large by any means, big enough for the two of us but it would be a tight squeeze for a third. "Sorry."

"It's okay. Stop apologizing," she says. "So what do you do at work? I almost never see you at the counter."

"Yeah, I'm usually out back with my brothers. And Dad of course."

She smirks. "He is the baker. I would expect him to be baking."

"His main job is making sure the three of us don't burn anything," I joke. "Can't sell burned bread."

Lily chuckles, her laughter echoing through the empty house, and I try to rid my mind of starving Katniss Everdeen clutching burned bread as she rushes back toward the Seam. I shake my head as Lily's giggles subside.

"I'm sure you don't burn anything," she says, too serious for our previous joking banter. When I don't respond, she must sense that the topic is done and changes the subject. I'm glad because I can't keep talking about burned bread or I'll never get Katniss out of my head.

"So, you work with your brothers?" she asks. I nod. "How's that?"

I shrug. "It's fine."

"Just fine?" She sounds almost disappointed and the frown only worsens when I nod in response. "I thought it would be fun to work with your siblings."

"I mean, it's still work," I tell her. "Why would you think it'd be fun?"

This time, it's her turn to shrug. "I don't know." She shakes her head and turns, fighting a blush. "Forget it. I'm being stupid."

I reach forward and take her hand. She tenses slightly at the contact before she turns to me, her teeth biting into her bottom lip and her face flushed.

"You're not stupid," I tell her, my voice firm. "Okay?"

She nods and lets out a breath. "Okay," she says.

"Now," I say, leaning back into the couch and motioning for her to continue. "Tell me why the bakery's fun. I'd love to know what I'm doing wrong."

She giggles nervously and I squeeze her hand in hopes that she'll get a little confidence.

"I just...I thought...Violet and Carnie always seemed to have so much fun together and I guess I just thought it might be fun to have a sibling," she says.

I had forgotten that Lily was an only child. I guess it never occurred to me that was what she was getting at when she brought it up. I sit up a little bit and curiosity gets the best of me.

"What's it like being an only child?"

She doesn't even have to think. "I hate it." She looks down at her lap. "My parents are great and all, but they always expect me to be perfect at everything. I just wish there was someone else going through it with me, you know? Someone I could talk to who understood what it was like."

I suppose I never thought about it that way before. Yes, my brothers and I aren't close, but our parents bond us. And while we don't talk about it often, we're more silent co-sufferers. The looks of disgust on Rye's face. The sympathetic glances from Barley. Of course, without Rye and Barley, I wouldn't be here right now, but I can't really imagine not having either of them while I was growing up. And even though we're not close, I never imagine only having one child. When I think of my own children, it's always two or three little dark-haired kids with big blue eyes. It's never one.

"Your parents are only children, right?" I ask. "That's probably why. They had what they were used to."

Lily shakes her head. "My mom was," she says. This surprises me. I've known the Parkinson family forever and never once has anyone mentioned Mr. Parkinson having siblings. "My dad had a sister."

"What happened to her?" I ask. Then I feel insensitive. What if she died in the Games and she doesn't want to talk about it. "Sorry, that's–"

"No, it's okay. I don't know what happened. I'm assuming it was the Games. He doesn't talk about her at all," she says. "The only reason I know is that my mom mentioned it. She didn't tell me anything though, just that it's sore spot for my dad."

I don't know that many people who have gone to the Games and even less who have been forced to work in the mines, but I know what happens when they go. Children of the Games get lost to memory, just another name in a long list. Most of the time, it comes from the family not wanting to talk about it and wanting to move on as well as everyone else's lack of understanding of how it should be talked about, so we don't talk about it at all.

It's very different when someone leaves for the Seam. It happened a few years ago, when the youngest Freeman boy was in my position and needed work. He got a shack in the Seam and his parents did everything in their power to make everyone else in Town forget they had three kids instead of two. It's a coal smudge that no one wants plaguing their family. He'll become part of the urban legends of people who leave, known to our generation but not the next, only trudged back up by gossipy wives who think the family is losing their class by dealing with Seam trash. The threat of this is usually enough for the family to sever all ties. Once they cross the Town-Seam line we don't ever really find out what happened to them. They disappear in the coal dust.

If you really wanted to, you can figure it out. There aren't that many blond heads in the Seam. There are a stray few blond Seam kids in school who must be the offspring of these people, like Primrose Everdeen. I've only seen their mother a handful of times, but I know she's a Town runaway. My father told me. I wonder who she was before she ran. I never asked. I was always more concerned with the part of the story where my father's love wasn't my mother and wondering if those feelings had ever changed for him.

The television in the corner suddenly turns on. They must have fixed the power. It cuts to a woman, her skin dyed green and her hair bright pink, who interviews the Victor. Glimmer smiles and talks about the wonderful feasts and parties. She even shows off the new nose the Capitol gave her as a gift for winning. I hadn't thought her old nose was bad, but this one is thinner on her face.

The interview ends and the television shuts off.

"Must be nice, having all that," Lily mutters. She turns to me. "How long can you stay?"

"I..." I say, stopping because I know I don't really have that much of an excuse to leave. I should want to stay. _I want to stay. _ "How long do you want me to stay?"

She scoots a little closer to me and I fight the urge to scurry back. _I want to stay._

"However long you want," she murmurs. "Or, until my dad kicks you out."

We're still holding hands and I can't help but notice that our palms are getting a little clammy pressed together for so long. I look away from our hands and into her face. She's staring at me, or rather my lips. She wants me to kiss her. I know she does and I...don't know if I can do that right now.

_I want to stay._ No matter how many times I repeat it the phrase doesn't become true.

But I don't want to hurt her feelings. "I can stay for a little bit," I tell her. "But I have to help finish something up at the bakery."

"Oh," she says. "That's okay. Work comes first."

I nod my head. Yes it does.

The rest of our date falls a little flat. With my need to leave looming over us, our conversation is mostly small talk. We don't get into anything deep like we had earlier in the night. It's mostly superficial talk about school and our friends. Just as the sun begins to set outside, I stand up to leave and Lily walks me out. She stops me at the door and hugs me, wrapping her small arms around my waist.

"I had a good time with you tonight, Peeta," she says. "Want to do it again soon?"

I have to nod my head. "Yeah, definitely."

She goes to kiss my cheek again, like she has twice already today, and conveniently misses, pressing her lips to the corner of my mouth. It's a hint. She wants me to take her face in my hands and press my lips to hers, but I just can't do that tonight. I have to be mentally prepared to do that and I'm just not.

Instead, because I really don't want to hurt her, I kiss her forehead. It makes her smile at least. "'Night, Lily."

My feet carry me through the streets while my mind races. I don't want to go home until I'm sure my parents will be in bed, and considering it's just sunset now I've got some time. I just don't want to deal with my mother. I can't listen to her right now. So I let my feet guide me to wherever they want to go, walking up and down the side streets and through yards as my head spins.

Ultimately, I'm going to have to get over myself and not be such a skittish mess around Lily. And, as much as I hate it, my mother is right. It would do me well to forget about Katniss and fall for Lily. Making Lily feel unwanted is the last thing that I want to do. She doesn't deserve that and if she's going to get stuck with me the least I can do is make sure she never questions that she's loved.

I make it back to the fence for the second time today, however I'm in a different spot. I don't know where I am. It's unfamiliar. The woods start closer to the fence and there's even a tree limb that crosses over the top, technically putting the tree on both sides of the district. I sit down in the grass, marveling at the beautiful meadow I've stumbled upon, and decide to wait out the sunset here. I'll block out Lily and my mother and merely watch the sunset illuminate the fully bloomed flowers surrounding me in a thick golden glow.

I hear a rustle in the bushes that aren't far from the fence and jerk instantly, scrambling backwards. The televisions turned on today, which means that the power supply must be back on, meaning the fence will protect me from any rabid animal, but my heart rate still accelerates. In my haste to get away, I fall, slamming to the grassy patch of the meadow. I make eye contact with a pair of bright eyes and see that it's not a bear or a wildcat or crazed wolf ready to pounce through the wires and into the district. In fact, it's not an animal at all.

It's Katniss Everdeen.

* * *

_Notes_

Marcos Cartwright gets his name from Imelda Marcos, who famously owned over a thousand pairs of shoes while she was first lady of the Philippines. She was seen as a symbol of excess during her husband's dictatorship. Not only do the Cartwrights own the shoe shop, Marcos is seen as a symbol of excess as he is the only boy in their friend circle to own a soccer ball.

I stole Hersh Donner from my Do Not Go Gentle universe. He's the son of the candy store owner and is Madge's cousin. In DNGG he has two older brothers, but here he is oldest and the heir to the store. His first name comes from Hershey's chocolate.

I hope the final interview concept doesn't seem too contrived. That's the last we'll see of Glimmer until the Victory Tour makes its way to District 12.

Thank you for your continued support. I'm sorry that I didn't get a chance to respond to the reviews you all sent for the last chapter. Life was very hectic this past week, but I'll be back to responding now.

Also, before moving on I want to make sure this is clear: Everlark is endgame. It's going to be a little painful getting there and it will be a slow burn, but I promise at the end it will be Katniss and Peeta, you'll see this more and more now that Part I is over.

Up next: Part II, Katniss, and (finally) some Everlark interaction.


	6. Six

Part II: The Incipient

_It's everything you wanted, it's everything you don't  
__It's one door swinging open and one door swinging closed  
__Some prayers find an answer  
__Some prayers never know  
__We're holding on and letting go  
_-Ross Copperman, _Holding On and Letting Go_

* * *

_Seam_

A few years back, I was sitting up in a tree waiting for game to stroll by when I dozed off and fell ten feet to the ground. I landed flat on my back and could do nothing but lay there, my lungs shocked into resistance. The wind blew through my lips but couldn't enter. I thought for sure that was it for me, if suffocation didn't kill me surely a hungry animal would do me in. Gale would find my body when he crossed the fence, cursing my name because I hadn't met him in our spot and thinking I ditched him only to see me sprawled out and blue in the face.

I have a similar reaction now when I see a figure on the other side of the fence. It's a Peacekeeper, probably with his gun at the ready, prepared to escort me to...to where? Where do they take those punished for poaching? I've never seen the punishment for that. Our Peacekeepers are some of our best customers.

I dive head first into the bushes, ready to wait out the Peacekeeper's patience. I squint to see if I can figure out who it is, because if it's Darius I can just walk out. He would do nothing to harm me. But I don't see the flash of red hair. The Peacekeeper is blond, curly haired. Broad shouldered. Wait. Blond. The Peacekeeper walks closer and I curse myself. That's no Peacekeeper.

It's Peeta Mellark.

What is Peeta Mellark doing in the Seam? I've never seen a merchant voluntarily come to the Seam for anything besides my mother when they can't afford to go to the apothecary. The Mellarks have never come to her for service. I think that the only time Peeta Mellark has even stepped a toe out of Town was to walk me home after the reaping. I narrow my eyes as he approaches. He's still about six feet off when he sits down in the meadow.

His hand reaches down to pick one of the wildflowers still in bloom, cradling it in his palms as if it's something precious. Prim does the same thing when I bring her here, admiring the flowers with a gentle touch before carefully weaving them into crowns for our heads. Peeta's face, though, is covered in shock. Did he not expect the Seam to have such beautiful things? Of course not – beautiful things only exist in Town.

My fists clench. I want him out of the Seam.

Having him here, transcending the boundary of where we belong, only reminds me of everything I owe him and everything I'll never be able to repay. This is my sanctuary and having him here, running through my head, overwhelms me. It makes my breath quicken, wondering if he's here for me, to remind me that time is ticking. I only have so long before we age out of the reaping and I only see him though the back door of the bakery, rather than every day at school.

The light of the setting sun catches his curls and the stark brightness only further reminds me that he doesn't belong here. No coal dust to be seen on his pale skin, safe from the cruelties of Seam life by luck of his birth. If anyone were to see him...he needs to go. He needs to get out of here.

I step out of the bushes and the rustle seems to surprise him. He startles, scrambling backwards like an inverted dog, before collapsing a few more feet from the fence, his eyes wide in horror. Then suddenly his face contorts, the fear dissolving into confusion and shock.

"Katniss?" He sits up a little straighter. "How did you get back there?"

I step a little closer to the fence and Peeta shrieks.

"No!"

"What?" I ask.

He stands up and rushes toward the fence, careful to stop an arms length away from the wires. "Don't touch it!" he insists. "I...I'll get Madge to tell her dad and maybe we can turn it off so you can get back in."

I can see from here that he's trembling, his breath shaky as he draws it in and out in short bursts. I listen to the fence from where I'm standing, afraid that if I get any closer he'll do something stupid, and I realize that he's right when the soft buzzing hits my ears. The fence is on. I groan and sit on the rock behind me.

Peeta steps a little bit closer, the trembling seemingly subsided now that I'm on the rock. "We'll get you out," he tells me. "I promise."

I have no idea what he's talking about. I'll just wait until the fence goes off again. It shouldn't be too long, maybe an hour and at the most overnight. It's never been on for more than a day before – aside from the weeks of the Games. But no one is stupid enough to go over the fence then.

He spins around and looks like he's getting ready to run.

"Wait, where are you going?" I shout.

"The mayor's," he says, turning back to look at me. "How else are you going to get back into the district?"

"What?" I squeak. My heart rate escalates. Although our Peacekeepers are prone to looking the other way to our illegal behaviors, an allegation against me would have to be dealt with appropriately. Peeta Mellark is trying to kill me. "Don't go to the mayor!"

Peeta walks closer to the fence and even though the fading day is casting shadows on his face I can see his expression, a mixture of concern and fear again clouded by confusion.

"Katniss, you can't stay in the woods," he insists. "I'm just trying to help you."

"Well, stop it," I hiss. I stand up and walk closer to the fence. "I can wait here until the fence goes dead."

He glares at me. "Ha, ha, Katniss. Very funny."

For some reason, this makes me extraordinarily angry. I storm right up near the fence, so close that he jumps and tries to reach for me, his arms out in a stopping motion. But I've been out in these woods, going out under this fence, since my father taught me how to shoot. Who does he think he is?

"Katniss, seriously," he says, his voice no longer deadpan but almost pleading. "You're going to get killed out there if you don't get back into the district soon."

"I'm going to get killed by Peacekeepers if you run to the mayor."

He hadn't thought of that. I can tell because it looks like he wants to berate himself. He runs both his hands through his hair, conflict deep in his eyes. He sits back down, wrapping his arms around his legs like a child, looking up at me with wide blue eyes filled with terror. Why is he scared? I'm the one he was planning on turning in.

"I'm sorry," he mutters. "I'm only trying to help."

I sit on the ground and roll my eyes. Of course he was. All Peeta Mellark seems to know how to do is help me. The least I could say is thank you, but my teeth grind together and my mouth can't open for anything. Not to thank him or tell him to get lost, so we just end up sitting and staring at each other, Peeta on one side of the fence and me on the other.

"You can go," I say when my voice finally comes to my lips.

He shakes his head. "I'm okay here. I can keep you company."

I bring my fingers to my temples and try to rub away the aching feeling that's beginning for form there. He can't stay here to keep me company because that's one more thing I'll owe him for and I can't even bring myself to thank him for the bread. But if I decline his offer and he stays then that means I wouldn't owe him, right?

"Suit yourself."

Peeta adjusts, getting himself comfortable. His legs spread out in front of him and his arms hold him up in his sitting position. I roll my eyes. He really is going to stay. I lean my back against the rock for support and hope the fence goes dead soon.

"The sunset is beautiful here," he mentions, his eyes not looking at me but at the wildflowers. Some of them even seem to glisten in the light. "I didn't even know this meadow existed."

Of course he didn't.

When I don't respond to his comments, he shakes his head and groans, quietly but loud enough for me to hear. My eyes flicker to his and he looks frustrated at something. Then he scoots a little closer to the fence, sitting cross-legged and staring at me.

"What do you want to talk about?" he asks. I raise an eyebrow. "I'm here to keep you company and since I seem to be pretty terrible at starting conversations, why don't you give it a try?"

I stare at him for a few moments. "I told you that you could go."

"And leave you behind the fence?" he asks. He sounds like I'm asking him to kill his father. "What if you need help?"

I have to bite back my laughter. If I need help over the fence, which is electrified, how would he be able to help me? Throw flowers through the barbs at the rabid dog? Shout at the bear approaching me? This fence is an inescapable barrier between us and Peeta would be more likely to watch me die than be able to help me should I be attacked.

The soft buzzing of the fence still assaults my ears and I cross my arms.

"What are you even doing here?" I demand.

He grinds his teeth together and looks away, taking a few breaths while he reaches down for a flower again. I watch as he picks at the petals, avoiding my question. He was the one who wanted to talk. I'm about to stand up and go find my bow so I can spend my time usefully before the sun sets all the way when he finishes picking the flower apart and turns back to me.

"Enjoying this meadow," he says. "Talking to you."

"I'm not much of a talking partner."

He chuckles. "No, you're not," he agrees. I can feel my nostrils flare. "But that's okay. I have a big enough mouth to talk for both of us."

My eyes flicker down to his mouth. I know he didn't mean it literally, but it's not too big. It doesn't overpower his face or anything. His bottom lip is bigger than the top and he only accentuates it by digging his upper teeth into the flesh. I look away and we fall into silence.

I'm not sure how long we sit trying not to look at each other. But by the time I start to get fidgety, the sky has darkened considerably since I've first seen Peeta at the fence. Before long the entire district will be blanketed in darkness. I hope the electricity dies soon or Prim will start to worry about my absence.

"Katniss?" Peeta calls, pulling me out of my thoughts. I look at him expectantly. "How are you going to get back into the district?"

When he speaks, he reminds me of Posy, who took my hand on the walk home this afternoon and asked why the boy with blond hair in her class always pulls her braids and calls her trash. The softness of his voice is so like hers – completely baffled and tinged with a bit of hurt or dejection. He looks up at me with genuine curiosity. His entire demeanor confuses me. It's not as if I'm going to be stuck out here forever and, even if I were, why would he care?

"The fence is never on for long."

His eyebrows furrow together. "What do you mean the fence is never on for long? Katniss, the fence is always on."

I suppose I've known about the fence for so long that I've forgotten that people don't realize we're being tricked. When my father told me about the fence and brought me into the woods in the years before his death I had been genuinely shocked too. Most people in the Seam know and in the autumn they'll venture in for the berries that grow about sixty feet away from the fence. They never go as far as Gale and I, but that's because they're ill equipped to deal with wild animals and too scared of them even if they were. I just figured Peeta would know. How else would I have squirrels to give his father? Unless he doesn't notice me at the back door when he's sitting at the table while I trade.

"Where do you think I hunt?"

The question comes out harsher than I intended but I don't apologize. I probably should. Peeta looks like I've just slapped him across the face.

"No, the fence was broken," he says quietly. "They fixed it for the final interview."

No one in the Seam ever watches the final interviews. Since the district officials have already taken down the screen most of us don't have access to anything to watch it on. It's a Town thing. I'm not sure why they'd still watch it considering it's not regulated – probably because it helps to remind them of all that they have over us.

But at least I know why the fence is on. If they turned on the electricity for the interview, it should cut out soon. It makes me relax, knowing that I most likely won't have to spend the night in a tree.

I'll let Peeta believe whatever he wants to believe. If he wants to believe that the fence was off at a certain time because it was broken, then let him. But how did Peeta know the fence was off if he thought it was always on? My stomach sinks.

"How did you know the fence was off?" My heart beats quickly while I wait for his answer.

Peeta's head drops into his lap. "I, uh...I might have touched it, a little."

"You touched it?" I actually shriek, my voice at a pitch only used when Prim tried to cook the tesserae loafs and nearly burned herself last spring. "Why would you touch it? What if it was on?"

"It's okay," he says, holding up his hands, palms toward me in attempts of calming me. He then crawls a little closer, so he's right up near the fence and as close as he can get to me without electrocuting himself. "Hey, Katniss, it's okay. It wasn't on. I'm fine."

"You should never touch the fence without listening first and you don't know what to listen for!"

He waits until my breathing has evened and our faces are nearly invisible by the darkness of the impending night. "Teach me, then," he says. I stare at him in confusion, even though he can barely see my changes in facial expression anymore. "Teach me how to listen."

I shake my head and pull my knees toward my chest. Maybe I should just tree myself and wait until morning. He'll be gone by then and I won't have to deal with him. My heart is still beating furiously against my chest. I shouldn't be upset by his ignorance, but I still can't believe he would touch a fence that he believed was electrified. He was lucky that it is never on.

He thought it was electrified and he still touched it. The thought makes me shiver.

Peeta is still sitting close to the fence, waiting for my answer. He wants me to teach him about the fence. This knowledge is mine though and I'm not sure how I feel about sharing it, especially with Peeta Mellark. But at the same time, the thought of him – sweet good Peeta Mellark – touching the fence again and not being so lucky shakes me to my core.

"Okay," I tell him. "I'll teach you."

We both inch a little bit closer and the wind whistles through the empty meadow. I focus on the fence, listening for the telltale buzz. "There, do you hear it?" I ask him. Peeta seems focused, his eyes staring at the barbs on the fence.

"It sounds almost like a bee, right?"

I nod.

"Yeah, I hear it," he says. He leans back and looks up at the sky, which is getting darker by the minute. "So...when it's off," he pauses and grits his teeth before continuing, "you hear nothing?"

I nod again.

We sit in silence, the only noises around us being the rustle of the wind through the leaves and the soft buzzing of the fence. Peeta keeps staring at it, clearly deep in thought. I let him stew in his confliction and instead focus on the noises around me. Animals don't tend to come right up close to the fence, but if Peeta weren't here I'd be up in a tree just for precaution. However, Peeta is here and I can't leave him sitting there by himself.

I lean back against the rock and stare up at the sky. The stars twinkle against the black expanse. Each one is in such contrast to the sky around it, a bright beacon in the darkness. Prim loves the stars and occasionally I'll take her out to the meadow after the sun has set to look at them.

Closing my eyes for a brief moment, I imagine that's where I am. Prim and I lay side by side in the grass staring up at the night sky. She points out stars, outlining different shapes that they make. She giggles all the way home and stops abruptly when the door to our room opens so as not to wake our mother, but the smile remains on her face even as she sleeps.

"...Katniss?"

My eyes snap open and I turn my head to where Peeta is sitting in the meadow. He changed his position while I wasn't paying attention and now he sits on his knees. I didn't hear him move and I wonder how far I had fallen into my imagination. Any animal could have come while I wasn't watching my back.

"What?" I growl. It's not supposed to be so harsh, but I'm angry with myself for being so stupid.

Peeta fidgets at my tone. "I think it's off. I can't hear it anymore, but–"

"Shh," I say. He quiets and I listen for the buzz. It never comes and I let out a sigh of relief. "Finally."

I stand up and adjust my bag so I can slide through the wires. I take a quick glance toward Peeta before I leave the woods. He stares at me with wide eyes and I can hear his uneven breaths. The fence is still silent so I slip through the rusty wires like I've done so many times before. Once I'm back within district boundaries, I find myself face to face with Peeta, whose shoulders have relaxed and breathing has returned to normal.

I'm rooted to my spot, unsure of what to do now that the fence isn't separating us. It seems rude to sidestep him and go home after he stayed here with me all this time. He really is a good person, just like Prim who is kindhearted and genuine, and that immediately makes me tense. Kind people are dangerous. They have a way of working their way inside me and rooting there.

I need to get home.

"Are you okay?" Peeta asks. The corners of his lips drop in concerned way.

My eyes turn toward my feet and I nod before walking around him. "I have to go."

"Katniss, wait!"

I keep walking, crossing my arms as I go, but it doesn't take long to hear Peeta's footsteps rushing to catch up. He's not exactly quiet, his steps worse than Rory's when we hunt. I quicken my own and before long we're running through the meadow, but Peeta has longer legs than I do and he catches up to me. He stops in front of me to block my way.

"What?" I hiss. "I need to get home and make sure Prim ate."

He lets out a sigh and glances down at his feet. "I'm sorry for taking up more of your time," he mumbles. "But I just wanted to thank you."

I can feel my scowl fall from my face. "What?" I ask, my voice soft and confused. "Why would _you_ need to thank _me_?"

One side of Peeta's frown upturns into a lopsided grin I've seen him wear many times while around his friends. It suits his face better then the frown I put there earlier.

"For the fence," Peeta clarifies. He looks over both shoulders and then makes a buzzing noise. "Thanks, now I know how not to kill myself."

Is he even real? Surely Peeta's entire existence is just to make me feel even worse about myself than I already do. It has taken me four years to even get close to thanking Peeta for the bread that saved my life and here he is dropping the words as if it's not a big deal at all. He gives me one more smile and then stuffs his hands in his pockets, sidestepping me to walk in the opposite direction. I spin around, watching him go back toward the fence.

"Where are you going?" I shout after him.

He turns and looks confused. "Home." He nods toward the fence. "I figured I'd walk this way toward Town. I'm sure no one in the Seam would like to see me walking through their streets at this hour."

At first it makes me angry, the way he says it – as if he's so special that people would look outside their windows just to see him. But then, the more I think about it, the more I realize he's right. People in the Seam wouldn't take a merchant's son walking through the Seam at this late hour lightly. They'd probably assume things about him going to the slag heap with one of the girls, using her desperation in similar ways as Cray. Peeta Mellark would never do such a thing, I'm sure of it, but not everyone in the Seam knows Peeta like I do. In fact, most of them will see him for his curly blond hair, just as his neighbors would look at my darker hair and skin with distain.

"I'll see you in school," he says, going back to walk along the fence until he crosses back into the merchant section and can walk safely in the streets.

I watch, rooted to my spot, as he disappears into the night, urging myself to run after him like he did to me. I need to thank him for so much now – the bread, staying with me while I was stuck, even walking me home after the reaping. This is my chance. If he disappears, I'll do the same thing I've done every other time and chicken out. He made it look so easy.

I drop my bag on the ground and sprint. I tell myself not to think and just do it. Just say thank you and be done. Peeta is already a fair distance away, kicking a rock as he walks, his hands stuffed in his pockets.

"Peeta!"

He turns around and even in the dark of night I can see his shock. He stops walking while I catch up, waiting for me to explain why I'm chasing after him. Even though I feel like I'm going to be sick to my stomach, I know I have to do this. It's not going to be enough, but at least it's a start.

"Yeah?" Peeta asks when I stop in front of him. "What's wrong?"

I shake my head. "I just...thanks for staying with me tonight."

A smile spreads across his lips. "It's not a problem, Katniss," he says, taking one of his hands out of his pockets so he can scratch the back of his neck. "I mean, I probably got more out of it than you did. You could have gone back out and hunted more without me taking up your time."

I'm not entirely sure what he's talking about – getting more out of the situation than me. He must mean learning about listening for the buzz of electricity. But, either way, he's wrong about keeping me at the fence. I would have climbed up into the tree and waited for the power to go out had he not been there. If I needed to hunt, and it hadn't been getting dark, I would have hunted.

"You didn't waste my time," I tell him.

Peeta smiles. "Well, I'm glad to hear it." He puts his hand back in his pocket and shuffles a little. "But I am stalling you now. You said you need to go check on your sister and I don't want to keep you from that. I'll see you around sometime?"

We see each other every day in school so the question seems very odd, but I nod anyway. He grins and says goodbye before turning back around and walking along the fence. I wait for him to walk far enough away that he's no longer visible. He must be nearly to Town, if not already there, when I finally turn around.

* * *

_Notes_

The titles of the parts in this story will come from fire imagery. The Incipient comes from the first beginning stage of a fire when heat, oxygen, and a fuel source combine in a chemical reaction. At this stage, the fire is easily manageable and can be controlled by portable fire extinguishers and small hose systems if it doesn't go out on its own. Ultimately, all going according to plan, there will be four parts: The Spark, The Incipient, The Inferno, and The Ashes.

The first paragraph is based on the first paragraph of THG Chapter Two, when Katniss describes being breathless at the thought of Prim being reaped.

"Kind people are dangerous. They have a way of working their way inside me and rooting there" is a variation of the line Katniss uses to describe Peeta in THG.

Thank you all for reading! I've been so humbled by the support this is receiving.

Back to Peeta in Chapter Seven.


	7. Seven

_Town_

The apartment above the bakery is pitch black when I come home and I can hear my father's snores through the closed door of my parents' bedroom. In all honesty, it's probably better that they're both asleep. I walk as quietly as I can through the hall and into my own room, climbing onto the top bunk, and trying to calm my heart.

It's no use. I've never been able to control myself when Katniss is in the picture and tonight is no different. It's not as if the conversation was even all that great, but it was something. Something that I shouldn't be excited about but I am nonetheless. How am I supposed to get over Katniss when she keeps popping into my life when I least expect it? And she even seemed somewhat receptive to me this time. She chased after me just to say thank you.

I don't end up getting much sleep. Between dreaming about Katniss and remembering that I met her after my failed date with Lily, my heart begins beating erratically in my chest. My breathing becomes labored and heavy. By the time I need to start getting ready for school I'm a mess. It isn't fair to Lily if I'm still fantasizing about Katniss, but if I'm not fantasizing...

I grind my teeth.

My limbs feel heavy in that tired sort of way when I finally roll out of bed, jumping down off the bunk even though I've been programmed not to do so by my mother. I pull on my clothes and pack up before leaving, slipping through the bakery's back door with a quick goodbye to my father and brothers. If they notice that I look like I'm on death's doorstep they don't mention it.

The walk to the apothecary is my reward for spending a good chunk of the night dreaming of Katniss. Lily, of course, is none the wiser about where my mind has been and so when she sees me she merely thinks I'm getting sick and offers something from behind the counter. I tell her that I'm okay. Whatever she has wouldn't help me anyway, unless it's a cure for the way Katniss ignites the fire in my veins by just being alive.

Katniss is already in class when I arrive, her head down and not paying attention to me as Lily waves goodbye – not kissing me today in fear of catching whatever it is I've caught. From my chair, I can tilt my head just so and see Katniss, a trick I learned years ago so no one would catch on. She doodles on the desk with her pencil, her head resting on her left palm, as Madge taps her fingers on the wood in an uninterested manner.

My life would have been so much easier if Katniss had told me she was dating Gale Hawthorne that night I walked her home a few weeks ago. The fact that they weren't dating and the way her voice lifted in an almost disgusted way has just given me too much hope. Last night rekindled that fire inside me that I had thought I had mostly extinguished. There would always be a heat in my heart that warmed only for Katniss, but I thought I had it at least under control, knowing that I'm destined to be with Lily. However, I have no control whatsoever and no desire to gain any either. I like the way I feel when it consumes me – I just hate the guilt that comes with it when I think about what it will eventually do to the girl I'm supposed to love.

During lunch, my eyes find her as they always do across the room. Today we even make eye contact. But just as I begin to feel my body warm, Lily reaches for my hand under the table and my body turns to ice, tension rising through my muscles at the thought of pining for Katniss when she isn't and will never be mine.

I look away and smile at Lily, but I can tell it's a poor effort on my part to make it look genuine. She presses her hand to my forehead, probably checking for fever, and I feel like I truly am going to be sick.

The last days of the matches are upon us. I've secured a spot in the finals, so I'm free to sit back and watch until Tuesday. Today and Monday will be the final matches to determine my competitor. Two Seam kids are battling it out today and on Monday the winner will wrestle the grocer's son. Whoever wins that will wrestle with me. After lunch everyone files into the gym and we try to squeeze onto one bench. Lily ends up practically in my lap and I make it about five minutes before I feel like I'm suffocating and need to get some air.

"I think I'm gonna head out," I tell them.

Lily gives me a hug. "If you need anything, let me know. I'll bring over some medicine."

I'm beginning to wonder if a person can die of guilt because the ache of my heart when she says it seems like it could very well send me to the grave.

I shrug and then walk out, making small talk with a few of the teachers as I go. They all agree that I don't look good and they'll personally make sure I don't get fined for truancy. It makes me wonder how bad I really appear.

I walk to my locker to grab the old ledger I hide there so my mother won't find and burn it. My father lets me have them to draw on with the last bits of coal from the ovens, but my mother hates that if I misplace it people could see our business. I put it in my bag, knowing I can't go home until school lets out or my parents will question me. My plan is to go draw on the last bits of paper left in the ledger.

My plan does not include seeing Katniss Everdeen in the hallway at her own locker.

She shuts her locker door and turns, spotting me instantly. I'd be hard to miss in the empty hall. She doesn't move, just bites her lip and adjusts her bag.

In a perfect world, I'd wave to Katniss, maybe even smile, and then open the door to my locker and let her go. Let her walk through the door of the school and out of my life so I could focus on more important things, like not feeling like a liar when I hold Lily's hand. But I'm not a perfect person and our world is far from faultless as well. My mother would be the first to say that. So instead of letting Katniss walk right out of my life, I prove my mother right and walk passed my own locker and toward hers.

"Hey, Katniss!"

She bounces from foot to foot. "Hi," she says. "What are you doing out here?"

"I could ask you the same thing. Aren't you supposed to be in the gym?"

She rolls her eyes. "Isn't everyone?"

"I guess you're right," I say. My eyes flit to the bag over her shoulder – her school bag. "Are you leaving?"

"No," she exclaims, but her eyes stare over my shoulder, where I know the door is located.

"I'm heading out too." My voice is too transparent to hide my reaction. I'm sure she can even hear the rapid increase of my heart's beats – now completely unsteady and out of any sort of normal rhythm. "Want to walk with me?"

She looks away and down at her feet, but she doesn't move or run away. She doesn't push passed me. She seems to be thinking, debating on why she would ever want to walk out with me. It's not as if we're friends. There is no reason for her to say yes and I'm fully expecting her to decline, barking out about me stalking her.

I grind my teeth together and then stuff my hands in my pockets, turning around without even saying a word to her. I was being stupid. She's Katniss Everdeen. What would she ever want with me? Besides, I am supposed to be forgetting about her. I'm not sure what I was thinking walking up to her in the hall. Why can't I just let her go?

"Where are you going?"

I nearly jump out of my skin at her voice. I didn't even notice her come up to me, falling into step beside me as we approach the back door of the school. My hand finds my hair and I run it through, trying to calm down so she won't know she scared me as much as she did. We stop just before the door.

She crosses her arms and stares at me. "Why are you skipping school?" she demands.

"Asks the girl also skipping school," I tease, the words flowing off my tongue before I can think to restrain them. I can't believe I just said that to her, like she's Hersh or Delly or even Lily. "I'm so sorry."

She shakes her head. "It's the truth." She plays with the strap of her bag. "Why are you skipping? Won't people notice if you're gone?"

"They think I'm sick," I mutter. "And what about you? Won't they notice if you're gone too?"

She shakes her head again and almost rolls her eyes. She's quiet for a moment before she speaks again. "Don't you like wrestling?"

I shrug. "Kind of. I mean, it's something I'm decent at, so that's always nice."

"Decent?" She actually laughs. "You're going to win. I think you're a little better than decent."

We start walking again without discussion. I hold the door open for her and she looks over her shoulders to ensure that there aren't any teachers or officials around to catch us. We slip out without detection, which doesn't surprise me considering the emptiness of the hallway. I'm not entirely sure where we're going, but I don't dare say anything, for fear that she'll catch on. I need this. As bad as this is for me getting over her, I can't let this moment slip away.

Since we walked out the back door, we're facing the dilapidated playground that hasn't been played on in years, for fear that it will collapse under the weight of the bony bodies of the lower school kids. In the distance, I can see the fence and the woods beyond it. I've never really noticed it before. Of course, I've apparently never noticed quite a bit about the fence if what Katniss says is correct.

I don't have any reason to doubt her after what I saw yesterday, but I still feel conflicted as to what to believe. Is the fence just another thing that the Capitol neglects for us, like the playground behind the school? I know that we're the lowest priority for them, as District 12, but the fence is so important in keeping us all alive. What if some wild animal figured out the fence was off and came into the District – where would President Snow get his tributes for the Hunger Games or how would he get the coal out of the mines if all our residents were dead?

Katniss and I follow the fence in relative silence and the walk seems like it goes on forever. I don't know what to say or if I should even say anything. Katniss isn't a talker and if I start speaking she might send me off. I don't want that. I should want that – but I don't.

I'm not sure how long we walk before we end up back at the spot in the fence where we were last night. I stop, unsure of what to do, when Katniss listens for the fence. I listen too and let out an audible gasp when the soft buzzing from last night doesn't pierce the air. The fence is off and I suppose I shouldn't be surprised.

Katniss slides through the barbed wires and I take a step toward the fence. On the other side of the district, Katniss frowns.

"What are you doing?" she barks.

"I listened to the fence," I tell her.

She scowls and crosses her arms over her body. "Don't you have somewhere to be?"

"I'm supposed to be sick," I tell her. "I can't exactly go prancing around the district. I was going to come out here and draw."

"Draw?" she asks. I nod. "Draw what?"

I hadn't actually thought that far. Katniss had interrupted my planning. "I don't know," I say. "But I left the old ledger at school so I can't. What are you doing?"

"Hunting," she says shortly.

I look over her shoulder and deeper into the woods. Katniss implied yesterday that she spends a lot of time out beyond the fence. She must know it well. I wonder how long it takes to become accustom to the freedom, or if while being out there she's riddled with fear that she'll be caught. What does it feel like to break the law?

It's a risky move, but I ask, "Can I come?"

Katniss actually looks shocked at my question. Her eyes widen and her mouth falls the slightest bit. She quickly recovers and her face morphs into the scowl I, and everyone at school, has come to know so well.

"No," she says. "You're too loud."

"Oh."

Katniss shakes her head and bites her lip. I sit down in the meadow and pick a flower, not really knowing what to do. I don't want to go home and that's really the only place I can go with my excuse at school. If I were to wander around the district and someone caught me I'd be in a considerable amount of trouble – both with the district officials and my mother when she found out. Staying here is really my only option.

"You're just going to sit there all afternoon?" Katniss asks. When I look up I see her standing as close to the fence as she can get without touching it.

I shrug. "It's better than that stuffy gym, don't you think?"

She nods once and then turns on her heel, disappearing into the woods.

It doesn't take long for Katniss to completely vanish from my sight, but I continue to watch for a few moments after just in case she comes back. She doesn't. I kick a stone near my foot and look around. The meadow is at the top of a hill and down in the valley I can see the beginnings of the Seam neighborhoods – shacks of homes that look like they're held together with little more than spit and hope. The stark contrast between the meadow and the beginning to the Seam leaves my stomach curling unpleasantly. The meadow is so beautiful, the late summer keeping the flowers in bloom and the grass so green it seems almost untouched by the coal dust that covers everything else within the fence.

I sat down next to a particularly pretty array of purple flowers, so I spend my time admiring them. I set down the first one and pick up another, holding it in my palms. We don't have anything like this meadow in Town – our flowers, if we can afford them, come from the florist. The few flowers that bloom on our side of the district are picked so fast in the night by residents who can't afford the florist that it's hard for anyone else to enjoy them.

"You're still here."

I jump up at the unexpected sound of Katniss's voice behind me. I hadn't even heard her coming. When I turn around, she's standing within the fence boundaries, her arms crossed and her ever-present scowl on her face. My eyes flit down to her bag, obviously carrying her game. It's not overflowing like it does sometimes when she comes to the bakery. Is that enough?

She clears her throat and I look back up at her face. She must be expecting me to answer.

"I like this meadow," I tell her. "I've never seen anything quite like it."

Her arms stay crossed, but her scowl softens on her face. It's not much, but I'll take it.

We stay like this for a long while, Katniss standing over me, our eyes locked in some sort of staring contest. Her gaze, questioning under her scowl, doesn't falter, whereas I can feel myself beginning to fidget. I lift myself off the ground to stand before her and hold out the two flowers I had picked before.

"For you."

When her fingers finally reach out to take them, they graze the skin of my hand. By the time my body has recovered from the shiver that ran down my spine at her touch, Katniss is long gone – the rustle of the wind the only thing left in her wake.

...

I'm not scheduled to work on Sunday, but I find myself at the counter kneading dough nonetheless. When I didn't show up after school let out on Friday – because I was too busy being a fool, waiting for Katniss Everdeen to come back to the other side of the district and say three words to me – Rye made up some excuse about asking me to do something at his house with Carnie while he was at work. Since Dad is attempting to transition me out anyway, the flimsy alibi was enough for him.

But, because of my absence, when Rye calls in 'sick' on Sunday, I get to take his place.

It seems as if every second I spend in the bakery becomes more and more painful. My burgeoning relationship with Lily, and why it's happening, fills the room like a haze of coal dust. It suffocates us, but no one in Town likes to talk about coal dust, and thus they don't say much of anything when I'm around. The only person who seems willing to talk about it is my mother and I stay far enough away from her most of the time to not have to indulge her.

It's midafternoon when the door to the front opens and my mother motions for my father to follow her. Apparently, Mr. Undersee is in need of some sort of cake order for his wife's birthday. My mother, of course, makes a comment about him wasting our supplies when Mrs. Undersee will probably have a headache on her birthday anyway, insinuating that the mayor's wife can plan her illness. I don't turn my head toward my mother the entire time she's in the room, gripping the counter so hard that my knuckles turn white, and I keep my eyes on the dough until she turns back to the front, no doubt with a smile too wide to be real adorning her face.

Barley is mid-eye roll when I turn back around.

The two of us have never been very close. Out of our set of three, Barley was always the most independent and introverted, even more so than our father at times. Put him in a room by himself and he'd be fine for hours – whereas Rye and I would whine at the door in five minutes or less, bored to tears. Our mother always said it was a good thing Barley was the oldest, what with the long, often lonely, hours that a baker can have. From what I know of his wife, they're very similar. Their house must be so quiet, considering they don't have any children.

So my oldest brother is fine with the silence that encompasses us. He puts himself back in the zone of decorating while I knead dough and bite my tongue. The knock at the back door is like music to my ears. I all but run to answer it.

And then freeze when I open the door and see Katniss.

I mean, somewhere in the back of my head I knew it must be her. Katniss is really our own trader. My heart does a few flips – and a few more when I see that Gale Hawthorne isn't with her. At her side is a miniature version of him instead. The boy must be about her sister's age and holds out a thick squirrel with a broad grin on his face, which falters when he sees me.

"Oh!" he squeaks, his voice still high with innocence. "You're not the baker!"

Katniss hits his arm. "Hush," she hisses and then turns to me. "Where's your dad?"

"He's in the front with Mr. Undersee," I say. I nod at the squirrel. "I can handle this so you don't have to wait."

The boy doesn't wait for Katniss to answer. He takes over in an almost comical show of attempted dominance. He thrusts the squirrel in my direction and sets his face hard while motioning for Katniss to hand me the other one. "The baker usually gives us a good loaf each," he says, his voice set in a bartering tone.

I hold my tongue and glance at Katniss. She's rolling her eyes, but smiling.

"Alright, I'll see what I can do," I say. I lift the squirrels to inspect them, although I have no idea what I'm doing. "Did you shoot these?"

The boy shakes his head. "No, that's all Katniss." But then his voice perks up a bit, losing the hard bartering pitch and making way for a more childish exclamation. "But I did finally hit one. I just got the stomach so we couldn't use it."

I shrug. "Before long you'll be hitting 'em right through the eyes like Katniss." I turn to look at her briefly, but she's staring at her feet. "Let me get your bread."

Heading back into the bakery, I see that Barley's eyes are still trained on the cookies. If he even paid much attention to the transaction, he doesn't show it. Dad is still in the front. I set the squirrels to the side and look through our breads. I know my dad tends to give them a loaf of day-old sourdough for each squirrel, but my hands bypass that rack as I look for something a little heartier. Katniss's bag on Friday was so empty and the boy with her is a little on the thin side. My eyes glance to the cooling rack.

I waffle for a bit but ultimately decide that I'd rather give them a loaf of the apple bread my dad attempted this morning with the apples from our tree. They're still a little warm in my hand, so I wrap them up a little better than usual and walk back toward the door. The boy holds his hands out.

The moment he has them, the hard lines of his face dissolve. His eyes widen and he tears into one of the wrappings, ignoring Katniss's pinch of his arm.

"Katniss, look!" he exclaims. "And they're warm, too!

Immediately, I know I've done something wrong. Katniss takes one look at the bread inside and then turns back to me, her gray eyes dancing with a fiery rage, her mouth set into such a thin line I can barely see her lips.

"Rory," she says, her voice still harsh and unable to hide the shaking of her words. "Can you give me those and then start heading home? I'll meet you."

"But, Katn–"

"Rory Hawthorne, do what I say!"

He does, albeit begrudgingly. He hands her the bread and scowls at her, walking away but constantly looking over his shoulder as he approaches the road. When I look away from him, Katniss is glaring at me.

"I need to talk to you," she hisses.

Without giving me a chance to answer, Katniss starts stalking toward the far end of my parents' property and out behind the shed. I take a glance over my shoulder at Barley, who has since looked up and is giving me a stern look that clearly says don't go after her.

"Shut the door, Peeta," he says.

Katniss is still stomping angrily toward the shed. My father is still dealing with Mr. Undersee. Barley is still staring at me, telling me what to do. But Barley isn't the baker yet and, although he's technically in charge, he's never been my keeper. I'd be more likely to listen to Rye.

And, to be honest, Rye would tell me to follow her – if nothing more than to get a good laugh out of watching me get beaten up by a girl half my size.

I slam the door shut.

Katniss has her arms crossed and her face set into a scowl. The bread is left forgotten on her bag on the ground. When I step near her, she gets right up into my face, her eyes emblazoned with a heated hatred I've never been on the opposing side of, even from my mother. What did I do to mess up so badly?

"What do you want?" she hisses.

"What do you mean?" I hold my hands up. "I traded."

She sucks in a deep breath. "Your father gives us a loaf of sourdough for one squirrel – you know that, you have to know that! We don't need your charity bread!"

"Katniss–"

"Do you want praise?" she exclaims. I step back, feeling lost. "Okay, thank you. Thank you for the bread. It saved my life. You got to play your hero but I don't need that anymore. I can take care of myself! I can take care of my family without you!"

My head is spinning. "Katniss, what are you talking about? What–?"

"The bread!" she shrieks. "The burnt bread you gave me in the rain."

When she says it, it's almost as if I'm twelve-years-old again, looking out the window at Katniss Everdeen sitting under our tree in the pouring rain, so frail and fragile that I'm afraid she's going to become part of the earth if she sits there any longer. That bread. That hearty nut and raisin loaf that I burned so I'd have to feed it to the pigs and instead chuck it at her. I didn't think she even remembered it.

And I certainly didn't think she thought that much of it.

"A loaf of bread doesn't save someone's life," I tell her. She opens her mouth, but I cut her off. "You did that yourself. You're the hero in this story, not me."

She seems taken aback by my words and turns her head away from me. She takes a few shaky breaths before saying, "I wouldn't be the hero without you and that bread." It's so quiet I almost don't hear. She looks down at her bag and shakes her head, her voice suddenly strong again. "But I still can't take this. We trade for sourdough."

"Take it, Katniss," I tell her. "My dad's not going to sell it anyway, it's too expensive. My mom's already had a fit about it today."

"We trade for sourdough," she repeats, kneeling down to take the bread so she can hand it back to me.

I push it back toward her. "You trade for sourdough with my dad. I'm not him. I can trade whatever I want." I wait until she looks up at me to continue. "I want you to have it."

She starts to shake her head and I shake mine right along with her. When I do, she scowls and I have to bite back a laugh. It just makes her scowl more. "It's probably not that good anyway," I tell her. "It's something we're trying out."

Katniss rolls her eyes. "Sure," she drawls.

"Okay, okay!" I laugh. "How about this – it's a gift from a friend to a friend."

"We're not friends," she says immediately. She winces at her own harshness and then shakes her head. "I'm not very good at friends."

"You and Madge seem to do fairly well," I say. As well as her and Gale Hawthorne, but I'm not bringing him into this unnecessarily.

She rolls her eyes and shakes her head, a combination that I'm beginning to realize is a mainstay in the Katniss Everdeen collection of expressions she uses when conversing. It makes me laugh again, but this just puts her on guard, thinking that I'm laughing at her and not at the fact that I've had enough interaction with her to being to realize these types of things.

"Don't friends actually need to know things about each other?" she asks smugly.

I shrug. "Who says we don't?" She frowns and I know I'm going to regret this in about five seconds but I plow on anyway. "You're Katniss Everdeen. You have a lovely singing voice. You take care of your family. You skip out on wrestling tournaments because you think they're boring–" she opens her mouth, but I don't let her interrupt "–and you deeply care about your sister."

She stands stone still, her mouth slightly ajar and the bread slowly slipping out of her hands. I reach forward and adjust her arms so she doesn't drop them in the mud, giving her a small smile. She doesn't say a word and that's when I realize that I've just come out as her obsessive stalker and she knows absolutely nothing about me that would make this conversation go from creepy to really kind of cute.

So I give her something to make it less painfully awkward.

"My favorite color is sunset orange," I say and then turn around before she can see how quickly my pale cheeks can turn blood red. I need to get back to the bakery anyway.

It takes ten seconds for me to run to the back door and swiftly make my re-entrance. My heart is pounding even though the run was short. My mind explodes when I think about what I just did. I curse under my breath. I can't believe I just did that. I can't believe I just did any of that.

Well, I guess one good thing came of it: Katniss Everdeen will never be a problem for my relationship with Lily again considering she probably thinks I'm nuts now.

Leaning against the back door, I run my hands over my face and try to erase the last few minutes from my memory. I can't though – my mind just can't erase Katniss's wide eyes and open mouth after my weird admission. I should have just kept my mouth shut. I should have just told her what my favorite color is and then asked her for hers. I've always been so good with words but whenever I'm around her I fluster and word vomit all over her.

Someone clears his throat.

I look up and find Dad and Barley both staring at me.

"You okay?" Dad asks. Barley shakes his head at me. I can almost hear him say, 'I told you so.'

I take a few deep breaths to compose myself. My body still jitters a little but I manage to nod my head.

Barley watches me glide across the room and sit in front of him at the decorating table. For once, I'm glad my oldest brother isn't a talker.

* * *

_Notes_

As you can probably tell given that I didn't post a chapter last monday, I've caught up to what I had prewritten. This means that I probably won't be posting on a strict schedule. I'll still attempt to post every week or two. That being said, I probably won't be able to get another chapter out until after Catching Fire comes out on DVD. I'm going to be without internet/writing time from March 1st through the 8th.

Thank you all so much for reading and sticking with this story, despite this long wait between chapters 6 and 7. It's truly humbling to receive your messages.

Next is Katniss again.


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